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A  PRACTICi^L  HANDBOOK  OF  THE 
StRlTCTXJRE  OF  VERSE  TOGETHER 
WlTH  CHAPTERS  ON  THE  ORIGIN 
NATURE  Aj^I>  FOSMS  OF  POETRY 


In  Memory  of 


Raymond  Best 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


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Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

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littp://www.arcliive.org/details/artofversificatiOOeseniala 


Other  Works  by  J.  Berg  Esenwein 
SHORT-STORY  MASTERPIECES  2  VOLS. 

TEN  FRENCH  STORIES  DONE  INTO   ENGLISH 
WITH    INTRODUCTIONS 

CLOTH — 75  cents  per  Vol. — postpaid 

VOLUMES  OF 

"THE  WRITER'S  REFERENCE  LIBRARY" 

In  Preparation 

(ready  IN  1913) 

WRITING  THE  PHOTOPLAY 
A  complete  manual  for  the  photoplaywright 

BY  J.  berg  esenwein  AND  ARTHUR  LEEDS 

THE  ART  OF  SHORT-STORY  WRITING 

BY  J.   BERG  ESENWEIN  AND   MARY   DAVOREN  CHAMBERS 

MANUSCRIPT  PREPARATION 

HOW  TO  SPELL,  PUNCTUATE,  EDIT  AND  PROOF-READ  MS. 

BY    J.   BERG    ESENWEIN    ASSISTED    BY    ROBERT    THOMAS 

HARDY  AND  MARIE  ROWLAND  BUNKER 

WHAT  IS  WRONG  WITH  MY  SHORT-STORY? 

A  PRACTICAL  DIAGNOSIS  OF  SHORT-STORY  ILLS 

SYNONYMS  FOR  WRITERS 

BY  J.   BERG  ESENWEIN  AND  MARIE   ROWLAND  BUNKER 

THE  TECHNIQUE  OF  THE  MYSTERY  STORY 

BY  CAROLYN  WELLS 
WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  J.  BERG  ESENWEIN 

OTHER  VOLUMES  TO  BE  ANNOUNCED 


The  Art  of  Versification 


J?  BERG  P3ENWEIN 

AITTHOR   OF   "wMTING   THE    SHORT-STORT" 

"studying  the  short-story,"  etc. 
AND 

MARY  ELEANOR  ROBERTS 

AUTHOR   OF    "cloth    OF    FRIEZE" 


THE  WRITER'S  REFERENCE  LIBRARY 

EDITED    BY   J.  BERG    ESENWEIN 


THE  HOME  CORRESPONDENCE  SCHOOL 

Springfield,  Mass. 

Publishers 


Copyright,  1 91 3 

The  Home  Correspondence  School 

all  rights  reserved 


Table  of  Contents 

Page 

Foreword xi 

Chapter  I — The  Nature  of  Poetry     ....  i 

/.  Poetry  Defined 3 

2.  The  Ten  Elements  of  Poetry 4 

(a)  Thought 5 

(b)  Emotion 5 

(c)  Interpretation 6 

(d)  Imagination 8 

(e)  Utterance 9 

(f)  Rhythm 10 

(g)  Beauty 11 

(h)  Loftiness 11 

(i)    Delight 12 

(j)    Profit 12 

J.  Poetry  and  Verse 13 

Exercises 13 

Chapter  II — The  Origin  and  Progress  of  Poetry  i  5 

1.  The  Origin  of  Poetry 16 

2.  The  Spread  of  Poetry  as  an  Art 17 

J.  Poetry  Today 19 

Exercises 20 

Chapter  III — The  Language  of  Poetry  .  .22 

1.  The  Choice  of  Words 23 

2.  The  Grouping  of  Words 26 

J.  Imagery 28 

Exercises 35 

Chapter  IV — The  Analysis  of  Verse    ....  37 

1.  The  Relation  of  Spirit  to  Form 38 

2.  Meter 40 


VI  TABLE    OF   CONTENTS 

Page 

J.  Quantity 41 

4.  Accent 41 

Exercises 45 

Chapter  V — The  Foot 47 

1.  The  Iambus,  or  Iambic  Foot 48 

2.  The  Trochee,  or  Trochaic  Foot 50 

J.  The  Anapcest,  or  Anapcestic  Foot 51 

4.  The  Dactyl,  or  Dactylic  Foot 51 

5.  Scanning 52 

6.  The  Law  of  Quantity  in  English  Verse      ■      •      •  53 
Exercises 55 

Chapter  VI — Rhythm  .     .           59 

1.  Regular  Rhythm  Unrhymed 61 

2.  Regular  Rhythm  Rhymed 62 

J.  Unusual  Rhythm  Unrhymed 62 

4.  Unusual  Rhythm  Rhymed 63 

Exercises 67 

Chapter  VII — Rhyme 69 

/.  Rhyme  Defined 69 

2.  Imperfect  Rhymes 70 

3.  Kinds  of  Rhyme 72 

4.  Location  of  Rhymes 73 

5.  Unusual  Rhyme  Schemes 76 

6.  Special  Cautions 78 

Exercises 80 

Chapter  VIII — Assonance  and  Alliteration  .  83 

1.  Assonance 83 

2.  Alliteration 85 

Exercises 88 

Chapter   IX — Onomatopceia — Sound  and   Move- 
ment       90 

1.  Sound 90 

2.  Movement 96 

Exercises 98 

Chapter  X — Tone-Color 100 

Exercises 108 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS  Vll 

Page 

Chapter  XI — Meters  and  the  Stanza      .     .     .109 

Types  of  Stanza no 

Exercises 122 

Chapter  XII — Irregularities 124 

1.  To  Indicate  Difference  in  Meaning       .      .  .124 

2.  Other  Irregularities 126 

Exercises 128 

Chapter  XIII — Epic  Poetry 130 

Exercises 132 

Chapter  XIV — Blank  Verse 133 

1.  Milton  on  Blank  Verse 134 

2.  Examples  of  Milton's  Groups  of  Lines       .      .      .135 
J,  The  Ccesura  or  Pause 136 

Exercises 138 

Chapter  XV — Dramatic  Poetry 140 

Exercises 145 

Chapter  XVI — The  Ode 147 

Exercises 151 

Chapter  XVII — The  Ballad 152 

Exercises 155 

Chapter  XVIII — The  Lyric 157 

Characteristics  of  the  Lyric 158 

Exercises 161 

Chapter  XIX — The  Sonnet 163 

Rules  of  the  Italian  Sonnet 175 

Exercises 176 

Chapter  XX — Imitations  of  Classical  Meters  178 

1.  Hexameters 179 

2.  Lyrical  Measures 182 

Exercises 186 

Chapter  XXI — French  Forms 188 

Exercises 213 


Vlll  TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

Page 

Chapter  XXII — Song- Writing 214 

General  Hints 215 

Exercises 219 

Chapter  XXIII — ^Light  Verse 221 

1.  Vers  de  SocUU 223 

2.  Satirical  Verse 227 

3.  Humorous  Verse 237 

4.  Parody  and  Travesty 245 

5.  Nonsense  Verse 255 

6.  Whimsical  Verse 265 

Exercises 286 


APPENDICES 

Appendix  A — Glossary  or  Metrical  Terms  .     .  288 

Appendix  B — Some  Books  for  the  Study  of  Ver- 
sification         291 

Appendix  C — Helps  in  the  Study  of  Poetry  .  293 

1.  General  Collections 293 

2.  British  Anthologies 294 

2- American  Anthologies 295 

4.  The  Theory  of  Poetry 295 

Appendix  D — Light  Verse 297 

Index 298 


FOREWORD 

This  little  treatise  does  not  aim  to  create  poets — Heaven 
must  do  that;  but  it  does  seek  to  furnish  those  who  have 
poetic  inspirations  with  the  knowledge  of  how  to  master 
the  forms  of  expression.  Poetry  is  first  a  gift,  then  an 
art — both  the  gift  and  the  art  demand  cultivation. 

Why  is  he  honor'd  with  a  poet's  name, 

Who  neither  knows,  nor  would  observe  a  rule ; 

And  chooses  to  be  ignorant  and  proud, 

Rather  than  own  his  ignorance,  and  learn? 
*        *        * 

Unpolished  verses  pass  with  many  men, 
And  Rome  is  too  indulgent  in  that  point; 
But  then,  to  write  at  a  loose  rambling  rate. 
In  hope  the  world  will  wink  at  all  our  faults, 
Is  such  a  rash,  ill-grounded  confidence 
As  men  may  pardon,  but  will  never  praise. 
Consider  well  the  Greek  originals, 
Read  them  by  day,  and  think  of  them  by  night. 

So  advised  Horace  in  his  "Ars  Poetica, "  and  so  would 
every  accomplished  poet  advise  today.  Industry  is  not  a 
substitute  for  inspiration,  but  it  is  an  admirable  assistant. 

It  is  hoped  particularly  that  young  writers  may  take 


X  FOREWORD 

pains  to  follow  the  exercises  appended  to  nearly  every 
chapter.  The  constant  practice  of  verse-making  by  those 
who  covet  a  mastery  of  form  cannot  be  too  highly  com- 
mended. A  thousand  pitfalls  are  here  pointed  out  whose 
deeps  yawn  for  the  unwary;  a  thousand  interesting  paths 
are  charted  for  those  who  abhor  monotony.  Only  let  the 
versifier  make  himself  master  of  a  harmonious  rhythm,  an 
easy  style,  correct  metrical  form,  and  a  wide  variety  of 
stanzas,  and  even  though  no  high  gifts  are  his  he  may  hope 
to  produce  pleasing  verse. 

But  let  him  not  enchain  himself  with  a  multitude  of  rules. 
A  knowledge  of  the  manifold  means  of  expression  must 
help  and  not  hinder.  "For  the  artist  in  verse,"  writes 
Sidney  Lanier,  ''there  is  no  law:  the  perception  and  love 
of  beauty  constitute  the  whole  outfit;  and  what  is  herein 
set  forth  is  to  be  taken  merely  as  enlarging  that  perception 
and  exalting  that  love. "  These  words  the  authors  desire 
in  spirit  to  make  their  own. 

Teachers,  it  is  hoped,  will  find  the  simple  and  progres- 
sive arrangement  of  this  book,  its  freedom  from  unex- 
plained technicalities,  and  the  abundant  questions  and 
exercises  provided  at  the  close  of  the  several  chapters,  a 
suflScient  promise  of  its  usefulness  as  a  class-room  text, 
while  those  who  adopt  it  for  individual  study  may  find 
those  same  qualities  not  without  value. 

The  authors  acknowledge  gratefully  the  help  given  by 
Miss  Louise  R.  Bull,  Miss  Marie  R.  Bunker,  and  Mr. 
Francis  A.  MacBeath,  Jr.,  in  reading  and  criticising  the 


FOREWORD  XI 

manuscript  of  this  volume;  and  the  valuable  assistance  of 
Mr.  Robert  Thomas  Hardy  in  reading  the  proof. 

Thanks  are  also  due  the  publishers,  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.,  for  courteous  permission  to  use  illustrative  extracts 
from  the  poems  of  Longfellow,  Bryant,  Lowell,  Holmes, 
Saxe,  Phcebe  Gary,  and  Bayard  Taylor;  J.  B.  Lippincott 
Co.,  publishers  of  Lippincott' s  Magazine,  for  the  use  of 
the  poems  and  light  verse  by  John  Kendrick  Bangs,  Ella 
Wheeler  Wilcox,  Carolyn  Wells,  Paul  Lawrence  Dunbar, 
Chester  Firkins,  Walt  Mason,  McLandburg  Wilson,  Anne 
Warrington  Witherup,  La  Touche  Hancock,  Harold  Sus- 
man,  Robert  Thomas  Hardy,  Edmund  F.  Moberly,  James 
H.  Hubbard,  Dudley  Glass,  Sam  S.  Stinson,  Cecilia  A. 
Loizeaux,  Katharine  Perry,  L.  C.  Davis,  Frederic  Moxon, 
G.  Mayo,  T.  C.  McConnell,  Charles  C.  Jones,  Harry  A. 
Rothrock,  Charles  H.  La  Tourette,  J.  G.  Neumarker, 
Frank  M.  Bicknell,  Augustus  W.  Breeden,  Karl  von  Kraft, 
"C.  H.,"  "J.  B.  E.,"  and  "M.  M.  P.  K.;"  the  Century 
Co.,  and  Mrs.  Helena  de  K.  Gilder,  for  "Sonnet  on  the 
Sonnet,"  by  Richard  Watson  Gilder;  W.  B.  Conkey  Co., 
and  also  the  author,  for  "Old  Rhythm  and  Rhyme, "  from 
"Picked  Poems,"  by  Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox;  the  publishers 
of  Ptick,  as  well  as  the  author,  for  "In  Mournful  Num- 
bers," by  George  B.  Morewood;  Forbes  &  Co.,  pub- 
lishers, for  Ben  King's  parody  on  "The  Bridge;" 
Small,  Maynard  &  Co.,  for  the  poem  "Fame,"  from 
Father  John  B.  Tabb's  volume,  "Lyrics;"  Miss  Carolyn 
Wells     for     several     excerpts     from      her     anthologies, 


XU  FOREWORD 

elsewhere  referred  to,  and  for  her  "Limericks"  and 
"Dithyramb  to  an  Aeroplane;"  Mr,  Samuel  Scoville,  Jr., 
for  his  "Villanelle;"  and  Mr.  Edward  J.  Wheeler,  for  his 
"Kitty." 

The  Authors. 
Philadelphia, 
November  i,  1912. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    NATURE    OF   POETRY 

Nature  should  lead  the  true  poet  by  the  hand,  and  he  has  far 
better  things  to  do  than  to  busy  himself  in  counting  the  warts 
upon  it,  as  Pope  did.  A  cup  of  water  from  Hippocrene,  tasting, 
as  it  must,  of  innocent  pastoral  sights  and  sounds,  of  the  bleat 
of  lambs,  of  the  shadows  of  leaves  and  flowers  that  have  leaned 
over  it,  of  the  rosy  hands  of  children  whose  privilege  it  ever  is 
to  paddle  in  it,  of  the  low  words  of  lovers  who  have  walked  by 
its  side  in  the  moonlight,  of  the  tears  of  the  poor  Hagars  of  the 
world  who  have  drunk  from  it,  would  choke  a  satirist.  His 
thoughts  of  the  country  must  have  a  savor  of  Jack  Ketch,  and 
see  no  beauty  but  in  a  hemp-field.  Poetry  is  something  to  make 
us  wiser  and  better,  by  continually  revealing  those  types  of 
beauty  and  truth  which  God  has  set  in  all  men's  souls;  not  by 
picking  out  the  petty  faults  of  our  neighbors  to  make  a  mock  of. 
— James  Russell  Lowell,  Conversations  on  Some  of  the  Old  Poets. 

Since  time-out-of-mind,  critics  have  disputed  over  the 
problem,  What  is  poetry?  and  even  today  no  formal  defini- 
tion is  widely  accepted.  Indeed,  it  is  likely  that  we  shall 
never  have  a  precise  and  comprehensive  positive  definition, 
because  so  imaginative  a  subject  must  always  be  viewed 
imaginatively,  and  that  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  varied 
minds  at  different  periods  will  view  poetry  variously. 
Besides,  as  Hammerton  observes  with  regard  to  pictorial 
art,  the  affections  often  disturb  the  balance  of  judgment, 
and  what  an  individual  loves  in  poetry  is  likely  to  seem  to 


2  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

him  greatest.  Perhaps  this  is  especially  true  with  regard 
to  definitions  essayed  by  poets  themselves. 

But  there  is  a  deeper  reason  than  either  of  these  why 
poetry  evades  exact  limitations:  precise  matters,  for  in- 
stance those  which  obey  the  laws  of  weight  and  bulk  and 
shape,  invite  definition,  while  those  which  deal  with  emo- 
tions, and  ideals,  and  fantasies,  constantly  present  new 
appearances  and  defy  rigid  formulas.  And  so  the  category 
of  difficulties  might  be  lengthened. 

Many  things,  however,  we  may  say  definitely  regarding 
the  nature  of  poetry.  We  know,  for  instance,  pretty  well 
what  it  is  not,  and  we  also  know  positively  what  qualities 
characterize  most  generally  those  expressions  which  by 
universal  assent  are  called  poetry.  By  this  means  we  shall 
attempt  to  arrive  at  a  somewhat  elastic  working  theory 
of  this  inspired  art. 

Thinkers  of  all  ages  have  bequeathed  to  us  many  illumi- 
nating utterances  regarding  poetry.  While  these  now  and 
then  have  the  precise  form  of  definition,  they  were  rarely 
intended  to  be  such,  but  rather  were  designed  to  empha- 
size some  of  its  primary  qualities  as  they  appeared  to  their 
originators.  Furthermore,  these  expressions  were  often 
supplemented  by  other  descriptive  statements — rather 
literary  than  definitive — which  will  serve  as  side-lights. 

A  comparative  examination  of  such  definitions  and 
descriptions  as  those  above  referred  to,  gives  us  on  the  one 
hand  an  informing  consensus  of  opinions  by  experts,  while 
on  the  other  we  go  directly  to  the  poems  of  great  poets  for 
examples  of  the  theories  illustrated.  Thus  by  comparison, 
contrast,  and  elimination,  we  have  a  residue  of  definition 


THE  NATURE   OF  POETRY  3 

touching  poetry  as  a  thing  produced — and  not  of  that 
intangible  essence,  the  spirit  of  poetry — which  may  serve 
as  a  working  basis  for  our  study. 

I.  Poetry  Defined 

Let  us  now  quote,  without  discussing,  several  of  the 
more  satisfactory  deiSinitions  of  poetry,  reserving  for  later 
reference  a  larger  group  of  descriptive  phrases — less  com- 
plete, though  often  more  brilliant  than  the  definitions. 

Poetry  is  "imaginative  metrical  discourse;  or,  more  ex- 
plicitly, .  .  the  art  of  representing  human  experi- 
ences, in  so  far  as  they  are  of  lasting  or  universal  interest, 
in  metrical  language,  usually  with  chief  reference  to  the 
emotions  and  by  means  of  the  imagination." — R.  M. 
Alden,  Introduction  to  Poetry. 

"Poetry  is  the  utterance  of  a  passion  for  truth,  beauty, 
and  power,  embodying  and  illustrating  its  conceptions  by 
imagination  and  fancy,  and  modulating  its  language  on 
the  principle  of  variety  in  uniformity." — Leigh  Hunt, 
What  is  Poetry? 

"Poetry  is  rhythmical,  imaginative  language,  expressing 
the  invention,  taste,  thought,  passion,  and  insight  of  the 
human  soul." — E.  C.  Stedman,  The  Nature  and  Ele- 
ments of  Poetry. 

"By  poetry  I  mean  the  art  of  producing  pleasure  by 
the  just  expression  of  imaginative  thought  and  feeling  in 
metrical  language." — W.  J.  Courthope,  The  Liberal 
Movement  in  English  Literature. 


4  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

"Poetry  is  a  particular  form  of  art  working  in  the  ma- 
terial of  language,  and  we  have  defined  it  as  patterned 
language.  If  the  technical  art  of  poetry  consists  in  making 
patterns  out  of  language,  the  substantial  and  vital  fvmction 
of  poetry  will  be  analogous;  it  will  be  to  make  patterns 
out  of  life.  And  this  is  the  case.  This  is  what  poetry  has 
been  doing  from  its  earliest  days  and  is  doing  still. " — J.  W. 
Mackail,  Lectures  on  Poetry. 

To  add  another  to  these  may  be  temerity,  yet  for  the 
further  development  of  these  studies  such  an  attempt 
seems  needful. 

Poetry  is  the  rhythmical  expression  of  emotional  thought, 
interpreting  life  in  language  lofty,  beautiful,  and  imaginative, 
and  uttered  for  both  delight  and  instruction. 

2.     The    Ten   Elements   of  Poetry 


In  weighing  a  definition,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
not  all  great  poems  are  great  in  every  passage.  Some  rise 
to  greatness  by  reason  of  general  effect,  while  others  are 
supreme  in  particular  passages  only.  Really,  this  observa- 
tion applies  equally  to  all  works  of  inspired  art.  Hence,  to 
apply  rigidly  the  foregoing  working  definition,  or  any  defi- 
nition, to  all  parts  of  all  great  poems  would  be  destructive, 
and  much  more  so  to  insist  upon  it  in  its  entirety  when 
measuring  minor  poems.  Yet  in  greater  or  lesser  degree 
each  of  the  ten  elements  contained  in  our  definition  will  be 
present  in  every  great  poem,  and  in  proportion  as  these 
elements  harmoniously  exist  in  any  literary  work  will  it 


THE   NATURE   OF   POETRY  5 

rise  in  the  scale  of  poetry.    Omit  one,  and  the  poem  suffers, 
though  it  may  still  be  a  poem,  and  even  a  great  poem. 

(a)  Thought  is  the  basis  of  all  literary  expression,  but 
in  the  deepest  sense  it  must  characterize  poetry.  Thought 
precedes  feeling  and  reflection  and  artistic  expression,  and 
unless  a  unified  thought  be  the  germ  of  the  poem,  no  poem 
can  there  be  at  all.  No  critic  was  more  clear  in  the  enforce- 
ment of  this  truth  than  was  Coleridge. 

Just  how  "big"  must  be  the  thought  to  warrant  its  use 
as  the  basis  for  a  poem  cannot  be  stated  in  clear  terms. 
Two  considerations,  however,  are  fundamental:  the 
thought  should  be  either  of  permanent  or  of  universal 
interest.  Kipling's  "  Recessional "  may  not  rise  to  thought- 
permanency,  but  as  an  occasional  poem  it  certainly 
achieves  universality  of  interest.  The  converse  is  true  of 
Shelley's  "The  Skylark" — what  it  lacks  in  wide  appeal 
it  makes  up  in  depth,  and  hence  in  permanency.  Other 
poems — greater  ones,  it  goes  without  saying — possess  both 
thought-permanency  and  thought-universality,  like 
Byron's  apostrophe  to  the  ocean  in  "Childe  Harold's 
Pilgrimage." 

Thought,  then,  is  the  basis  of  poetry  even  when  its 
lighter  phases  are  the  more  appealing  and  apparent,  for 
poetic  thought  is  not  the  thought  of  physical  science,  of 
logic,  or  of  metaphysics.  It  may  touch  any  of  these  formal 
subjects,  but  only  to  transmute  it  into  beauty  and  feeling. 

{h)  Emotion.  During  the  reign  of  romanticism,  when 
Byron  was  the  cynosure,  emotion  was  not  only  regarded 
as  a  sine  qua  non  of  poetry,  but  extremists  like  Moore 


6  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

declared  that  "  poetry  ought  only  to  be  employed  as  an 
interpreter  of  feeling,"  and  Byron  sang  of  "poetry,  which 
is  but  passion."  Even  the  philosopher  Mill  described 
poetry  as  "the  delineation  of  the  emotions."  The  present- 
day  view  is  more  moderate,  as  expressed  by  Theodore 
Watts-Dunton,  in  his  article  on  Poetry  in  the  "Encyclo- 
pedia Britannica  " :  "  No  literary  expression  can,  properly 
speaking,  be  called  poetry  that  is  not  in  a  certain  deep 
sense  emotional. " 

This  last  view  is  both  conservative  and  sound.  The 
"spontaneous  overflow  of  powerful  feelings,"  to  use 
Wordsworth's  notable  characterization,  "takes  its  origin 
from  emotion  recollected  in  tranquillity."  Reflect  upon 
this  great  dictum  and  see  how  true  it  is!  Subject  great 
poems  like  Tennyson's  "In  Memoriam"  and  Lowell's 
"Vision  of  Sir  Launfal"  to  this  test,  and  they  meet  it  per- 
fectly. Thought  and  feeling  rethought  and  refelt  give 
rise  to  a  surge  of  poetic  emotion  which  overflows  in  poetry 
— and  that  in  turn  mingles  with  the  floods  of  feeling  in 
him  to  whom  the  poem  comes.  "Evangeline"  as  truly 
arouses  our  emotions  as  it  was  born  of  emotion  in  the  heart 
of  Longfellow;  conversely,  there  is  nothing  more  pitiable 
than  a  pumped-up  fountain  of  sham  poetic  feeling,  for  the 
stream  can  rise  no  higher  than  its  emotional  source.  To 
feel  rightly  and  deeply  and  sincerely  is  given  only  to  genu- 
ine souls. 

(c)  Interpretation  is  the  poet's  peculiar  gift.  The 
Greeks,  it  has  been  often  said,  gave  the  poet  his  name, 
poietes,  "a  maker,  a  creator;"  and  the  Romans  called  him 
vates,  "a  seer, "  one  whose  sight  was  in  and  out  and  around 


THE   NATURE   OF   POETRY  7 

and  beyond;  while  the  Germans  made  the  name  Dichter, 
a  poet,  from  dichten,  "to  forge,  to  compose,  to  invent,  or 
to  muse. " 

Here  in  the  word  itself  we  have  imbedded  the  central 
idea.  The  poet  sees  what  is  beyond  the  ken  of  those  who 
are  not  see-ers  by  nature  and  constant  habit.  "Emphati- 
cally it  may  be  said  of  the  poet,  as  Shakespeare  hath  said 
of  man,  'that  he  looks  before  and  after,'  "  wrote  Words- 
worth^, and  Emerson  declared  that  "Poetry  is  the  per- 
petual endeavor  to  express  the  spirit  of  the  thing  i"^  while 
Carriere  is  quoted  by  Dr.  Gummere^  as  thus  phrasing 
much  the  same  idea:  "  Poetry  speaks  out  the  thought  that 
lies  in  things." 

To  interpret  is  to  stand  between  and  make  the  utterance 
of  one  clear  to  the  hearing  of  another.  So  does  the  poet 
stand,  having  sensed  the  sweetness  and  light  and  music 
and  strength  and  seriousness  of  all  hidden  meanings  in 
man  and  nature  and  God,  and  by  voicing  them  in  articulate 
manner  brings  that  to  our  understanding  which  else  were 
unknown.  This  is  what  Matthew  Arnold  meant  when  in 
phrase  somewhat  severe-sounding  he  said  that  poetry  is 
"a  criticism  of  life  under  the  conditions  fixed  for  such  a 
criticism  by  the  laws  of  poetic  truth  and  beauty;"^  and 
Shelley  had  the  same  thought  when  he  wrote  that  "  to  be  a 
poet  is  to  apprehend  the  true  and  the  beautiful.  "^  As  the 
seer  sees  truly,  as  his  eye  is  sensitive  to  the  beautiful,  he  is 

^  Introduction  to  "Lyrical  Ballads." 
"^  "Poetry  and  Imagination." 
'  "Handbook  of  Poetics." 

*  "The  Study  of  Poetry. " 

*  "A  Defense  of  Poetry." 


8  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

fitted  to  occupy  the  choice  seat  in  the  Interpreter's  House. 
Today  as  never  before,  with  men  groping  among  material 
things,  seeking  for  they  know  not  what,  today  with  its 
unrest  and  its  cries  for  relief  from  oppressions,  the  poet  is 
needed  to  see  truth  and  interpret  the  meanings  of  life  to  us 
all. 

(d)  Imagination  is  a  fourth  element  of  poetry.  Leigh 
Hunt,  answering  the  question  "What  is  Poetry?"  in  his 
volume  so  entitled,  gives  a  category  of  six  aspects  of  imagi- 
nation, and  whole  treatises  have  been  written  without  ex- 
hausting its  scope.  But  chiefly  we  understand  it  to  be  the 
faculty  of  forming  images,  and  this  is  the  poet's  vocation. 
Samuel  Johnson  once  said  that  poetry  was  the  art  of  "call- 
ing imagination  to  the  help  of  reason,"  and  Blair,  upon 
whose  rhetorical  foundations  all  nineteenth-century  critics 
have  built,  conceived  poetry  to  be  "  the  language  of  passion 
or  of  enlivened  imagination,"  while  Shelley  saw  it  to  be 
"in  a  general  sense  .  .  the  expression  of  the  imagi- 
nation. " 

The  earliest  critic  whose  work  is  read  today  is  Aristotle. 
"Poetry,"  he  wrote  in  his  Poetics,  "is  imitation,  or  an 
imitative  art."  In  this  view  Francis  Bacon  shared. 
"Poesie, "  said  he  also,  "filleth  the  imagination."  So  by 
imitation  these  great  minds  doubtless  meant  imagery, 
"the  art  of  employing  words  in  such  a  manner  as  to  pro- 
duce an  illusion  on  the  imagination.  "^ 

The  language  of  poetry  is  "vitally  metaphorical;"^  by 
it  poetry  institutes  noble  and  striking  comparisons,  sends 

1  Macaulay,  "Essay  on  Milton." 
*  Shelley,  "A  Defense  of  Poetry." 


THE   NATURE   OF   POETRY  9 

out  the  eye  of  the  soul  into  the  world  of  things  seen  and  un- 
seen, establishes  points  of  contact  for  our  understandings, 
conceives — that  is,  gives  birth  to — thoughts  and  emotions 
which  it  in  turn  interprets  to  men.  "I  saw  the  heart  of 
man,"  it  says,  "and  it  is  like  unto  this."  In  a  word,  the 
poet's  imitative  imagery,  untrammeled  by  laws  and 
statutes,  sees  visions  and  dreams  dreams  which  are  more 
just  than  justice  and  more  true  than  science. 

Sidney  Lanier  has  beautifully  expressed  the  poet's  use 
of  imagery  when  he  says  that  a  "harmonious  union  of  soul 
and  body,  of  spirit  and  nature,  of  essence  and  form,  is  pro- 
moted by  the  nature-metaphor,  which  reveals  with  wonder- 
ful force  how  these  two,  united  from  of  old,  still  have  new 
points  of  sweet  and  thrilling  contact,  and  still  adorn  and 
complement  each  other.  Spirit  needs  form,  and  finds  it  in 
nature,  which  is  formal;  nature  needs  life,  and  finds  it  in 
spirit,  which  is  life-giving.  Never  be  these  two  sundered! 
Forever  may  the  nature-metaphor  stand  a  mild  priest, 
and  marry  them,  and  marry  them,  and  marry  them 
again,  and  loose  them  to  the  free  air  as  mated  doves  that 
nestle  and  build  and  bring  forth  mildnesses  and  meek- 
nesses and  Christ-loves  in  men's  hearts!"  ^ 

(e)  Utterance  is  a  further  element  of  poetry.  As  Sted- 
man  put  it,  poetry  is  "vocal. "  Human  speech  is  its  natu- 
ral exponent,  words  form  its  music.  Some  one  has  said  that 
poetry  is  "the  beautiful  representation  of  the  beautiful, 
given  in  words. "  What  is  thought  and  felt  and  discerned 
and  imaged  must  be  translated  into  language.     Many 

*  "  Music  and  Poetry. " 


lO  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

there  are  who  feel  but  cannot  sing,  while  more  live  in  songs 
sung  by  other  voices.  For  both  of  these  the  poet  has  a 
ministry :  to  him  it  is  given  to  utter  the  unuttered — to  ex- 
press life.  Go  to  your  favorite  poet,  and  you  will  find  that 
he  is  speaking  to  you,  singing  to  you — even  uttering  for 
you  your  inmost  self. 

(0  Rhythm  is  the  sign  manual  of  poetry's  outward  form. 
Shelley  in  his  ''Defense  of  Poetry"  has  admirably  phrased 
this  need  for  a  patterned,  recurrent  form: 

"  Sounds  as  well  as  thoughts  have  relation  both  between 
each  other  and  towards  that  which  they  represent,  and  a 
perception  of  the  order  of  those  relations  has  always  been 
found  connected  with  a  perception  of  the  order  of  the  rela- 
tions of  thoughts.  Hence  the  language  of  poets  has  ever 
affected  a  certain  uniform  and  harmonious  recurrence  of 
sound,  without  which  it  were  not  poetry,  and  which  is 
scarcely  less  indispensable  to  the  communication  of  its 
influence  than  the  words  themselves,  without  reference 
to  that  peculiar  order. " 

Rhythm  is  sensed  from  nature.  Sound  and  movement 
and  regularity  of  succession  produce  harmony,  under  the 
best  conditions,  and  harmony  is  the  suitable  dress  of 
poetry.  "  Musical  thought  "is  how  Carlyle  denominated  it. 

On  this  question  opinions  have  varied  decidedly.  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  in  his  "Apologie  for  Poetrie, "  asserted  that 
verse  was  not  essential  to  poetry,  while  so  scientific  a  mod- 
em as  Hegel  insisted  that  "  meter  is  the  first  and  only  con- 
dition absolutely  demanded  by  poetry. "  Between  these 
amazing  extremes  stood  the  oft-quoted  Shelley,  who  be- 
lieved that  poetry  must  be  rhythmical,  though  not  neces- 


THE   NATURE   OF  POETRY  II 

sarily  metrical — a  position  which  seems  to  us  to  be  correct. 
More  than  the  harmonious,  vibrating  sequence  of  beautiful 
sounds  we  may  not  demand  as  an  essential,  however  we 
may  admire  and  approve  full  metrical  form.  Archbishop 
Whately's  dictum  that  poetry  must  employ  "elegant, 
decorated  language  in  meter"  is  true  in  most  instances, 
but  scarcely  imiversal  enough  to  be  accepted  as  a  law. 

(g)  Beauty  is  an  element  so  well  recognized  as  scarcely 
to  need  either  demonstration  or  the  confirmatory  pro- 
nouncement of  Poe:  '*I  would  define,  in  brief,  the  poetry 
of  words  as  the  rhythmical  creation  of  beauty."^  Here 
we  have  a  fine  suggestion  that  the  beauty  of  poetry  must 
consist  not  alone  in  the  adornment  of  language,  but  in  the 
presence  of  the  ideal  both  in  substance  and  in  manner. 

(h)  Loftiness,  or,  in  its  highest  expression,  sublimity, 
has  been  recognized  as  an  essential  element  of  poetry  ever 
since  Plato  spoke  of  it  poetically  as  "the  language  of  the 
gods."  Ruskin's  definition  was  by  no  means  satisfying, 
but  the  one  element  of  loftiness  he  enforced  most  effec- 
tively: Poetry  is  "the  presentment,  in  musical  form,  to 
the  imagination,  of  noble  grounds  for  the  noble  emo- 
tions. "2  The  same  high  thought  was  in  the  mind  of  Alfred 
Austin  when  he  expressed  it  as  "a  transfiguration  of  life. " 
And  of  poetry  Goethe  says:  "Like  the  air  balloon,  it  lifts 
us,  together  with  the  ballast  which  is  attached  to  us,  into 
higher  regions,  and  lets  the  confused  labyrinths  of  the  earth 
lie  developed  before  us,  as  in  a  bird's-eye  view.  ""* 

'  "The  Poetic  Principle." 
-  "English  Prosody." 
'  "The  Human  Tragedy." 
*  "  Dichtung  und  Wahrheit.  " 


12  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

(i)  Delight  is  another  quality  of  poetry  which  applies  as 
well  to  him  who  sings  because  he  loves  to  sing,  as  to  him 
who  is  happy  in  his  listening.  Coleridge  tells  us  that  poetry 
proposes  "for  its  immediate  object  pleasure  and  not 
truth. "^  Horace,  however,  says  that  poetry  is  "that 
which  is  intended  for  profit  and  delight."^  Wordsworth 
believed  that  it  was  the  business  of  the  poet  to  give 
pleasure.  "  Nor, "  says  he,  "  let  this  necessity  of  producing 
immediate  pleasure  be  considered  a  degradation  of  the 
poet's  art.  It  is  far  othervvase.  It  is  an  acknowledgment 
of  the  beauty  of  the  universe.  "^  And  Landor  writes  that 
"all  the  imitative  arts  have  delight  for  their  principal 
object;  the  first  of  these  is  poetry. " 

(j)  Profit  is,  finally,  the  imquestioned  result,  though 
rarely  the  purpose,  of  all  true  poetry.  In  this  quaint 
phrase  Sir  Philip  Sidney  expressed  his  extreme  view:  "It 
is  the  fayning  notable  images  of  vertues,  vices,  or  what 
els,  with  that  delightfuU  teaching  which  must  be  the  right 
describing  note  to  know  a  poet  by. "  Horace  said  that  "a 
poet  should  instruct,  or  please,  or  both. " 

Even  those  who  perfectly  agree  with  these  classic  author- 
ities would  scarcely  say  that  all  poetry  is  didactic,  for  the 
teaching  we  receive  must  be  the  by-product  of  truth, 
beauty,  power,  and  emotion.  Yet  nothing  humorous  or 
serious  of  true  poetic  quality  can  come  to  perfect  utterance 
but  it  leaves  its  profitable  impress  upon  the  hearer,  for 
"a  merry  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine"  as  truly  as 

'  "Biographia  Literaria. " 
^  "Ars  Poetica. " 
*  "Lyrical  Ballads." 


THE   NATURE   OF   POETRY  1 3 

the  thrusts  of  satire  or  the  pangs  of  tragedy  may  teach  us 
needed  lessons.  None  the  less,  poetry  is  not  chiefly  "for 
profit." 

The  ten  elements  of  poetry,  then,  would  seem  to  be: 
Thought,  Emotion,  Interpretation,  Imagination,  Utterance, 
Rhythm,  Beauty,  Loftiness,  Delight  and  Profit. 

J.  Poetry  and  Verse 

In  all  the  foregoing  we  have  assumed  a  real  distinction 
between  true  poetry  and  mere  verse.  Poetry  is  a  spirit, 
verse  is  its  outward  form.  Poetry  is  born,  verse  is  made. 
Poetry  is  emotion,  verse  is  gesture.  Each  has  its  standards, 
its  limitations,  its  appreciators,  and  its  uses;  and — who 
shall  tell? — those  who  today  become  skilled  in  the  tricks  of 
verse-making  may  use  that  skill  tomorrow  to  utter  some 
pure  note  of  poetry.  The  whole  range  of  creation  spreads 
before  the  bard  wherefrom  to  choose  his  materials.  No 
theme  is  taboo.  Touched  by  his  magician's  wand  the  com- 
monplace is  glorified,  labor  becomes  kingly,  tragedy 
emerges  from  the  market-place,  beauty  breathes  amidst 
the  soot  of  the  forge.  Life  is  the  poet's  theme,  and  the 
poet's  crown. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Pick  out  the  elements  of  poetry  according  to  each  of 
the  definitions  by  Alden,  Hunt,  Stedman,  Courthope,  and 
Mackail. 

2.  Do  any  of  these  definitions  seem  to  you  to  lack 
any  essential  elements?     If  so,  name    the  elements  and 


14  THE   ART   OF   VERSIPICATION 

give  your  reasons  for  thinking  they  should  be  included  in 
a  full  definition. 

3.  Criticise  the  present  authors'  definition. 

4.  Define  emotion. 

5.  Name  as  many  different  functions  of  the  imagination 
as  you  can.    Illustrate. 

6.  Distinguish  between  imagination  and  fancy. 

7.  Select  any  long  poem  of  distinction  and  point  out 
evidences  of  each  of  the  ten  elements  of  poetry. 

8.  Make  a  list  of  the  general  subjects  or  themes  treated 
in  six  poems  of  distinction. 

9.  Make  a  list  of  original  themes  which  occur  to  you  as 
being  suitable  for  short  poems.  Remember  that  a  theme 
for  a  poem  may  consist  of  a  single  idea. 

10.  Make  a  list  of  original  themes  suitable  for  long 
poems. 

11.  Select  a  so-called  poem  which  you  consider  to  be 
merely  verse. 

1 2.  Give  your  reasons,  and  say  if  you  think  there  is  room 
in  the  world  for  mere  verse. 

13.  Write  a  paragraph  on  the  proper  subject  matter 
of  poetry. 

14.  Make  a  short  list  of  themes  which  you  consider 
to  be  unsuitable  for  poetic  treatment.  Give  reasons  in 
each  case. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  ORIGIN  AND  PROGRESS  OF  POETRY 

Let  learned  Greece  in  any  of  her  manifold  sciences  be  able  to 
show  me  one  book  before  Musaeus,  Homer,  and  Hesiod,  all  three 
nothing  else  but  poets.  Nay,  let  any  history  be  brought  that  can 
say  any  writers  were  there  before  them,  if  they  were  not  men  of 
the  same  skill,  as  Orpheus,  Linus,  and  some  others  are  named, 
who,  having  been  the  first  of  that  country  that  made  pens 
deliverers  of  their  knowledge  to  their  posterity,  may  justly  chal- 
lenge to  be  called  their  fathers  in  learning.  For  not  only  in  time 
they  had  this  priority — although  in  itself  antiquity  be  venerable 
— ^but  went  before  them  as  causes,  to  draw  with  their  charming 
sweetness  the  wild  untamed  wits  to  an  admiration  of  knowledge. 
So  as  Amphion  was  said  to  move  stones  with  his  poetry  to  build 
Thebes,  and  Orpheus  to  be  listened  to  by  beasts, — indeed  stony 
and  beastly  people.  So  among  the  Romans  were  Livius  Androni- 
cus  and  Ennius;  so  in  the  Italian  language  the  first  that  made  it 
aspire  to  be  a  treasure-house  of  science  were  the  poets  Dante, 
Boccace,  and  Petrarch;  so  in  our  English  were  Gower  and 
Chaucer,  after  whom,  encouraged  and  delighted  with  their  excel- 
lent foregoing,  others  have  followed  to  beautify  our  mother- 
tpngue,  as  well  in  the  same  kind  as  in  other  arts. 

— Sir  Philip  Sidney,  An  Apologie  for  Poetrie. 

The  history  of  poetry  is  the  history  of  civihzation.  For 
this  reason,  an  inquiry  into  the  causes  which,  through 
successive  ages,  have  directed  the  imaginations  of  poets 
into  channels  of  metrical  com-position,  would  lead  us  very 
close  to  the  springs  of  all  art  and  all  learning.  But,  more 
specifically — for  the  foregoing  is  too  general  a  statement  to 


l6  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

be  illuminating  historically — when  we,  more  and  more, 
press  in  toward  the  heart  of  poetic  origins,  we  shall  find 
that  as  poetry  arose  and  took  form  in  each  land  and  moved 
from  Orient  to  Occident,  it  was  shaped  and  colored  by  the 
national  genius  of  each  successive  coimtry  that  at  once 
contributed  to  its  rise  and  progress  and  received  the  be- 
nignant heritage  which  genuine  poetry  confers  upon  any 
people  that  fosters  its  indwelling.  This,  then,  indicates 
the  thesis  of  this  necessarily  brief  and  summarial  account. 
Though  the  precise  origins  of  poetry  are  shrouded  in 
prehistoric  mist,  we  may  be  tolerably  certain  that  just  as 
soon  as  human  utterance  began  to  be  amplified  and  made 
more  effective  by  the  addition  of  images,  poetry  was  born. 
Its  use  among  primitive  peoples  today  is  a  fair  indication 
of  its  first  functions — that  of  communal  or  group  expression. 
Afterward  came  the  development  of  the  individual  poet 
with  his  increasingly  personal  expression,  culminating  in 
the  lyrical  form. 

/.  The  Origin  of  Poetry 

It  is  easy  to  picture  a  wild  tribe  dancing  about  its  fetich 
and  chanting  some  crude  rhythmical  sentences  in  honor  of 
the  god,  in  triumph  over  an  enemy,  in  prayer  for  help,  in 
mourning  for  some  poignant  loss.  As  these  metrical  and 
musical  words  were  often  repeated,  they  took  on  fixed 
forms,  and  so  the  rude  tribal  ritual  was  composed,  and 
crystallized  into  a  folk  form.  Naturally  enough,  tradition 
ascribed  the  gift  of  these  poems  to  the  gods  themselves. 

Such  was  the  origin  of  the  primeval  ballad,  and  the  epic 
poem  whose  finished  verses,  ages   later,  were  recited  in 


THE  ORIGIN  AND  PROGRESS  OF  POETRY       1 7 

market-place  and  camp,  in  palace  and  in  garden,  wherever 
the  Greek  tongue  brought  the  civilization  of  that  broad 
colonizing  nation.  And  quite  in  the  same  way  the  poetic 
tales,  epics,  and  sagas  of  East  and  North  developed  also. 
Presently,  the  poet,  who  had  secured  his  training  by  com- 
piling and  arranging  the  heroic  poems  which  were  the  prop- 
erty of  his  entire  nation,  began  to  invent  story-poems  and 
recite  them  for  public  entertainment — as  well  as  for  his 
own  private  gain.  From  this  it  was  only  a  short  step  to 
the  creation  of  poems  expressive  of  the  singer's  personal 
aspirations — and  so  the  lyric  was  engendered.  Thus 
music  and  dancing  and  poetry  share  a  common  ances- 
try, and  that  ancestry  a  mingling  of  religion,  war,  and 
community  life. 

Just  how  deeply  the  poets  of  Asia — particularly  those 
of  India  and  Palestine — left  their  impress  upon  Greek 
life  and  character  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but  certain  definite 
marks  are  not  wanting  to  prove  that  Asiatic  conceptions 
of  life,  standards  of  conduct,  and  theistic  beliefs  influenced 
Greek  ideals  very  potently.  But  which  land  was  the 
earliest  in  coming  to  national  poetic  expression,  no  one  has 
yet  conclusively  demonstrated. 

Everywhere  music,  dancing,  poetry,  and  oratory  have 
preceded  prose  in  what  may  be  termed  the  artistic  develop- 
ment of  a  people,  and  undeveloped  races  today  are  inter- 
esting examples  of  the  persistence  of  this  same  order  of 
growth. 

2.  The  Spread  of  Poetry  as  Art 

The  almost  coincident  rise  of  the  Greek  epic  and  the 
Hebrew  national  poetry  marked  the  definite  genesis  of  the 


1 8  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

literatures  of  these  emotional  peoples.  And  both  laid 
their  impress  upon  that  newer  nation  whose  conquering 
heel  they  felt — Rome.  Next,  as  Roman  domination 
carried  her  customs  and  learning  to  the  provinces,  the 
savage  poetry  of  subjugated  races  was  modified,  and  what 
we  may  call  classical  standards  appeared  in  the  remoter 
lands.  And  successively  in  France,  England,  Spain,  Ger- 
many, and  throughout  all  Europe,  this  process  was  worked 
out,  just  as  centuries  later  the  Revival  of  Learning 
carried  classical  standards  to  the  ultimate  parts  of  the 
earth. 

But  if  the  growth  of  poetic  expression  in  all  lands  has 
been  from  the  communal  to  the  personal — that  is,  from  the 
crude  ritualistic  and  warlike  and  hunting  chant  through 
legendary,  epic,  and  dramatic  poetry,  down  to  the  milder 
and  entirely  individualistic  lyric — the  subject  matter  and 
the  ethical  ideals  of  poetry  have  undergone  a  similar  evo- 
lution. 

Moral  ideals  reached  a  higher,  because  a  more  unselfish, 
plane  much  earlier  in  Judea  than  in  Greece.  But  the 
austere  Jew  was  ever  a  lonely  and  remote  soul  and  kept 
his  pure  ideals  much  to  himself;  while  the  beauty-loving, 
joyous  Greek  diffused  his  life  wherever  he  went.  So  it 
came  about  that  when  Rome  conquered  Judea,  the  Jew 
brought  no  large  teaching  to  his  subjugator,  while  when 
Greece  felt  the  yoke,  she  subtly  captured  her  captor  in 
every  conceivable  form  of  life.  Thus  it  was  not  until, 
centuries  later,  the  religion  of  Jesus  spread  through  the 
Empire  that  the  Judaistic  conceptions  of  morals  began  to 
touch   cosmopolitan    Rome.     Thenceforward,    European 


THE  ORIGIN  AND  PROGRESS  OF  POETRY       1 9 

poetry,  in  common  with  all  artistic  expression,  began  to 
exhibit  moral  impulse. 

Greek  poetry  was  true  to  our  dictum — it  mirrored  Greek 
life.  A  refined  sensuality,  a  delicate  appreciation  of  the 
beautiful,  a  worshipful  pursuit  of  joy,  an  exaltation  of  the 
body,  a  profound  yet  light-hearted  stoicism — these  were 
the  Grecian  tones.  The  early  philosophy  of  Rome  was 
much  the  same,  though  a  deeper  moral  consciousness  was 
there;  but  Rome  eventually  became  pessimistic,  and 
plunged  into  excesses,  all  the  while  calling  her  mad  whirl 
Life.  Even  the  infusion  of  Christianity  did  not  avail  to 
put  lofty  and  heroic  ideals  into  the  moribund  body — for 
this,  the  added  element  of  the  North  was  required  with  its 
hardihood  and  its  vital,  though  pagan,  religious  mysticism. 

J.  Poetry  Today 

Thus  the  poetry  of  all  these  lands  most  clearly  reflects 
their  varying  and  climbing  ethical  standards,  and  nothing 
is  more  patent  today  than  that  our  present  age  is  mirrored 
as  completely  and  as  perfectly  in  its  poetry  as  in  any  other 
of  its  varied  forms  of  artistic  expression.  Every  age  has 
had  its  despairing  prophets.  Elijah  repined  in  ignorance 
of  the  four  thousand  faithful  ones;  Edmund  Spenser,  in 
the  very  brightest  dawn  of  English  poetry,  bewailed  its 
deepening  night;  and  plainly  may  be  heard  today  the 
lament  of  those  who  see  in  the  larger  attention  given  to 
fiction,  history,  and  science,  the  certain  presage  of  disaster 
for  poesy.  But  if  the  epic  days  are  gone,  because  com- 
munal life  is  too  self-conscious  for  its  reproduction  in  heroic 


20  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

verse,  the  poetic  drama  is  pluming  itself  for  higher  flights, 
and  the  lyrical  poem  was  never  so  vitally  concerned  with 
the  problems  and  expressions  of  its  age  as  it  is  today. 
Poetry  is  doubtless  feeling  the  depressing  damps  of  com- 
mercialism and  noxious  morals,  but  it  is  also  inbreathing 
the  higher  airs  of  a  dawning  era  of  human  brotherhood  and 
love. 


Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Why,  in  your  opinion,  has  the  earliest  expression  of 
every  literature  been  marked  by  the  rhythm  and  repeti- 
tion characteristic  of  poetic  form? 

2.  Briefly  trace  the  progress  of  poetry  geographically 
from  east  to  west. 

3.  As  they  mirror  various  races  and  religions,  name 
some  of  the  differentiating  characteristics  of  Asiatic, 
Greek,  and  Roman  poetry. 

4.  What  single  influence  has  done  most  to  raise  the 
moral  ideals  of  poetry? 

5.  Would  you  consider  the  communal  chant  of  primi- 
tive races,  with  its  many  impromptu  variations,  proof  that 
the  poetic  form  of  expression  is  inherent  in  mankind? 

6.  Can  you  associate  this  with  any  practises  of  children 
today? 

7.  Is  oratory  or  prose  the  more  closely  related  to  poetry? 
Why? 

8.  Write  about  one  hundred  words  upon  the  influence 
of  the  Revival  of  Learning  on  literature. 


THE   ORIGIN   AND  PROGRESS   OF   POETRY  21 

9.  What  is  the  present  state  of  poetry  (a)  in  America? 
(b)  In  Great  Britain? 

10.  Are  present-day  influences  favorable  or  unfavorable 
to  the  advance  of  poetry?  Give  reasons  supporting  your 
answer. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   LANGUAGE    OF   POETRY 

The  spoken  word  in  poetry  has  for  its  direct  symbol  the  printed 
word.  What  is  true  of  the  one  will,  therefore,  presumably  be 
true  of  the  other.  And  this  is  so.  Language  as  uttered  sounds 
does  not  of  itself  make  poetry  any  more  than  the  words  on  the 
printed  page  make  poetry.  Language  is  the  accepted  medium 
of  expression  for  poetry,  just  as  marble  is  for  sculpture,  or  pig- 
ments and  canvas  are  for  painting;  and  without  language,  it  is 
safe  in  general  to  say,  there  could  be  no  poetry. 

— H.  R.  Fairchild,  The  Making  of  Poetry. 

The  word  of  the  Poet  by  whom  the  deeps 

of  the  world  are  stirr'd. 
The  music  that  robes  it  in  language  beneath 

and  beyond  the  word. 

— Tennyson,  The  Wreck. 

Lest  we  begin  by  accepting  the  false  notion  that  the 
function  of  words  in  poetry  is  confined  to  their  meanings, 
let  us  at  once  assert  the  contrary.  Succeeding  chapters 
will  show  that  verbal  sounds,  both  apart  from  and  con- 
bined  with  the  sense,  are  most  important  factors  in  poetical 
and  rhythmical  expression.  Just  now,  however,  we  must 
examine  words  especially  with  their  meanings  in  mind, 
casting  only  a  passing  glance  at  their  sounds  apart  from 
their  intellectual  content. 

Poe  asserted  that  words  were  sufficient  to  express  any 
idea,  and  in  this  he  was  supported  by  distinguished  author- 
ities.   But  surely  there  are  thoughts  beyond  the  power  of 


THE  LANGUAGE   OF   POETRY  23 

any  words  even  to  connote — imaginings  which  picture 
"  the  light  that  never  was,  on  sea  or  land, "  the  tree  "which 
bare  twelve  manner  of  fruits,"  golden  streets  which  yet 
are  crystal  clear.  True,  such  extra-natural  conceptions 
seem  to  be  hazy  and  unformed,  but  that  is  doubtless  be- 
cause the  minds  which  envisioned  them  could  not  find 
words  to  set  forth  the  complete  concepts — language  has 
not  yet  found  wherewithal  to  embody  thoughts  which  are 
beyond  the  dimensions  of  our  everyday  lives. 

Nevertheless,  the  poet  is  confined  to  the  use  of  words 
as  a  medium  for  his  message,  and  when  the  three-fold 
power  of  collocated  words  is  found  at  its  highest,  that  is, 
when  meaning,  sound,  and  movement  are  balanced  and 
blended,  we  have  a  well-nigh  perfect  instrument  of  ex- 
pression. 

/.  The  Choice  of  Words 

Does  the  vocabulary  of  the  poet  differ  from  that  of  the 
prose  writer?  Yes,  for  it  is  both  more  extensive  and  more 
limited.  And  yet  the  beginner  is  the  one  who  soonest 
turns  to  high-flown,  "fancy"  language,  in  the  mistaken 
idea  that  poetry  concerns  itself  with  strutting  and  unusual 
words.  Examine  the  quotations  cited  in  this  volume  and 
make  actual  test  of  the  kinds  of  words  used  by  our  great 
English  poets,  and  the  results  may  prove  surprising.  True* 
poetry  is  lofty,  but  not  toplof tical ;  it  is  high  in  thought, 
but  high-sounding  words  cannot  elevate  a  commonplace 
idea. 

In  the  main,  therefore,  the  vocabulary  of  a  poet  does 
not  differ  from  that  of  a  good  prose  writer.     Different 


24  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

types  of  poetry  call  for  a  choice  of  words  in  harmony  with 
the  thought  expression,  just  as  in  oratory,  in  prose,  and  in 
everyday  speech;  and  it  is  this  nice  adjustment  of  lan- 
guage to  thought  which  forms  the  first  and  deepest  basis 
for  good  poesy.  The  gentle  movement  of  the  pastoral 
poem  will  naturally  flow  on  in  smooth  and  unimpassioned 
words — likeliest  those  not  too  remote  from  common  usage 
and  understanding.  Such  we  find  in  "The  Folk-Mote  by 
the  River,"  a  narrative  poem  by  William  Morris: 

It  was  up  in  the  morn  we  rose  betimes 
From  the  hall-floor  hard  by  the  row  of  limes. 
It  was  but  John  the  Red  and  I, 
And  we  were  brethren  of  Gregory ; 
And  Gregory  the  Wright  was  one 
Of  the  valiant  men  beneath  the  sun, 
And  what  he  bade  us  that  we  did, 
For  ne'er  he  kept  his  coimsel  hid. 

Here  the  only  word  not  used  ordinarily  in  prose  is 
ne^er.  Betimes,  brethren  and  bade  are  less  commonly 
used  words,  but  nevertheless  quite  prosaic.  Even  heroic 
poetry  of  the  most  impassioned  type  uses  few  words  not 
found  in  good  prose,  as  a  careful  examination  will  show. 

In  what,  then,  does  the  choice  of  words  for  poetic  uses 
differ  from  that  of  prose?  In  two  particulars:  In  poetry 
we  find  a  considerable  number  of  (a)  Suggestive  Words,  that 
is,  words  which  connote  more  than  they  ordinarily  mean, 
picture  words  which  evoke  a  whole  scene  or  suggest  a  com- 
parison without  actually  expressing  it.    Such  words  must 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF   POETRY  25 

be  used  not  too  freely,  lest  the  verse  give  an  impression  of 
over-ornamentation  and  consequent  heaviness  and  arti- 
ficiality. After  all,  Simplicity  is  the  handmaiden  of 
Beauty. 

Expressions  like  the  embattled  farmers,  the  multitudinous 
seas  incarnadine,  the  vernal  year,  and  shouldering  billows, 
are  full  of  suggestive  richness.  Similarly,  the  use  of  sug- 
gestive substantives  is  much  more  frequent  in  poetry  than 
in  prose — Erin  for  Ireland,  sail  for  vessel,  and  the  like. 

(b)  Variant  Words  are  also  characteristic  of  poetry.  Of 
these  are  the  "solemn"  forms  of  direct  address — thee,  thy, 
etc.,  and  the  formal  pourest,  heareth,  and  the  like.  Then, 
too,  we  find  contractions  such  as  e'en,  oft,  starr'd,  list,  mount, 
as  distinguished  from  mere  colloquial  contractions  like 
don't  and  she'll.  Other  important  poetic  variants  are 
archaic,  obsolete,  and  obsolescent  words,  such  as  erst, 
idlesse,  and  thither;  and  unusual  possessive  forms,  such  as 
the  law's  delay. 

But  even  more  important,  though  perhaps  less  frequent, 
than  any  of  the  foregoing  variant  types,  are  original  and 
little-used  compounds.  Homer  is  so  rich  in  these  fresh 
word-pairs  that  we  have  come  to  term  them  Homeric 
Compounds.  Shields  smooth,  beautiful,  brazen,  well- 
hammered,  is  one  of  his  notable  groupings,  equalled  only 
by  his  laughter-loving  Aphrodite,  and  far-darting  Apollo. 
Shakespeare  was  the  supreme  latter-time  artist  in  this  in- 
ventive realm,  with  his  always-wind-obeying-deep,  and  many 
another.  Carlyle  also  has  contributed  many  compounds 
which  while  first  used  in  his  prose  have  found  their  way 
later  into  the  poetry  of  others — fire-eyed  Defiance,  much- 


26  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

suffering  man,  and  the  frost-bath  of  Poverty,  are  good  ex- 
amples. 

The  constant  expansion  of  our  English  tongue  by  new 
coinage,  revival  of  archaic  forms,  and  both  adoptions  and 
adaptations  from  foreign  languages,  is  a  fruitful  field  for 
the  poet  wherefrom  to  gather  fresh  words  for  his  verses. 
Surely  with  so  wide  a  variety  for  his  choice  he  will  wish  to 
avoid  words  which  are  unalterably  stamped  as  technical 
(steam-gauge),  colloquial  (canH),  commonplace  (handker- 
chief), or  ridiculous  (humped) — of  course  we  are  speaking 
now  of  poetry,  and  not  of  nonsense  verse. 

2.  The  Grouping  of  Words 

But  much  more  in  the  grouping  of  words  than  in  their 
selection  singly  does  poetry  differ  from  prose. 

(a)  Sentence  forms  are  often  abbreviated  and  the  rules 
of  grammar  in  that  particular  abrogated,  as  Never  night 
like  this,  in  which  the  verb  and  the  article  are  omitted. 
Inverted  sentences  are  frequent,  like  Hushed  lay  the  sleep- 
ing earth.  But  care  must  be  used  not  to  use  inverted  forms 
from  mere  caprice,  as  the  tyro  often  does,  thinking  so  to 
affect  the  poet's  livery.  The  danger  is  that  the  occasional 
obscurity  in  great  poets,  which  is  the  result  of  too  great 
compression  or  too  refined  and  remote  suggestion,  may  be 
regarded  as  an  essential  of  poetry  rather  than  a  defect,  as 
it  certainly  is. 

(b)  Freshness  in  word  grouping  is  no  less  important  in 
the  whole  poetic  line  than  it  is  in  the  making  of  apt  com- 
pounds.   Indeed,  so  precious  is  the  space  of  every  letter  in 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF   POETRY  2^ 

a  perfect  line  of  verse  that  compression  and  suggestive 
quality  are  the  two  prime  factors  of  word  arrangement. 
Each  word  should  bear  its  full  part  in  the  line — each  word 
should  not  only  convey  its  own  idea,  but  enhance  its  pre- 
ceding and  succeeding  fellow,  for  an  ideal  line  of  poetry 
is  not  a  chain  of  so  many  links,  but  a  galaxy  of  mutually 
reflecting  gems.  How  distressing,  then,  are  those  evident 
attempts  at  padding,  like  her  face  so  jair,  which  disclose 
that  a  line  needs  to  be  filled  out  and  not  an  idea  wherewith 
to  upholster  it ! 

Consider  the  mutual  shining  of  each  word  in  these  lines 
— consider  the  compressed  and  efficient  power  of  every 
phase  of  the  poet's  choice  and  arrangement  of  his  words: 

Thou  too,  hoar  Mount !  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks, 

Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  imheard. 

Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene 

Into  the  depths  of  clouds,  that  veil  thy  breast — 

Thou  too  again,  stupendous  Mountain!  thou 

That  as  I  raise  my  head,  a  while  bowed  low 

In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base 

Slow  travelling  with  dim  eyes  suflFused  with  tears, 

Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud. 

To  rise  before  me — Rise,  O  ever  rise. 

Rise  like  a  cloud  of  incense  from  the  earth  I 

Thou  kingly  spirit  throned  among  the  hills. 

Thou  dread  ambassador  from  Earth  to  Heaven, 

Great  Hierarch!   tell  thou  the  silent  skies, 

And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun. 

Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,  praises  God. 

— Coleridge,  Hymn  before  Sunrise,  in  the  Vale   of  Cha- 

mouni.  , 

% 


28  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

In  this  example  we  have  only  a  very  few  unusual  words, 
yet  such  is  their  arrangement  that  they  are  siu-charged 
with  bigness.  The  whole  stanza  throbs  with  great  emo- 
tions— the  thoughts  tower  huge,  not  a  single  word  or 
group  of  words  but  connotes  the  large  spirit  of  the  poem. 
The  language  is  simple,  yet  it  deals  with  vast  spaces,  un- 
measured heights,  and  things  uncontained  by  human 
limits.  Here,  then,  is  the  secret  of  poetic  language — words 
perfectly  expressive  of  poetic  thoughts. 

In  Coleridge's  "Hymn"  we  see  not  only  the  choice  of 
poetic  words,  the  poetic  grouping  of  those  words,  and  the 
poetic  use  of  common  words,  but  we  discern  a  third  great 
element  in  the  language  of  poetry: 

5.  Imagery 

"The  business  of  poetry,"  writes  Macaulay,  "is  with 
images,  and  not  with  words."  "Metaphors  come  of  love 
rather  than  of  thought,"  says  Sidney  Lanier.  "They 
arise  in  the  heart  as  vapors ;  they  gather  themselves  in  the 
brain  as  shapes;  they  then  emerge  from  lip,  from  pen, 
from  brush,  from  chisel,  from  violin,  as  full  works,  as  crea- 
tions, as  art." 

Here  is  true  doctrine.  Poetry  can  no  more  exist  without 
imagery  than  can  the  poet  sing  without  visions.  The 
poetic  soul  in  poetic  mood  sees  nothing  singly — all  life 
comes  to  him  in  dualities,  in  complexities,  and  the  inner 
relationships  of  life  which  are  imseen  by  the  crass  eye  are 
disclosed  to  him  because  he  is  a  seer.  His  vocation  is  to 
discern  and  set  forth  the  similitudes  of  things  unseen;  he 


THE  LANGUAGE   OF   POETRY  29 

must,  because  it  is  in  his  heart  to  do  so,  reveal  to  the  rest 
of  us  the  spiritual,  the  high,  the  healing,  the  up-pointing 
likenesses  of  common  things,  so  that  we  may  know  that 
the  lowliest  beings  which  tread  the  earth  may  have  their 
commimion  in  the  heights.  So,  too,  must  he  translate 
the  meaning  of  the  difl&cult,  the  remote,  the  forbidding, 
until  it  is  an  open  language  that  the  simple  may  read.  He 
will  be  a  seer  of  beautiful  and  truthful  and  inspiring 
images,  therefore,  or  he  will  be  no  poet — no  "maker,"  as 
the  poet  is. 

Now  all  this  may  sound  sublimated  and  impracticable. 
Perhaps  it  is,  for  the  poet  is  not  first  of  all  practical.  But 
the  artist  uses  not  only  tools  but  earthy  pigments  and 
cold  marbles  for  his  creations;  and  the  poet  uses  words 
for  his  evocations.  His  imagery  is,  if  not  according  to  law, 
at  least  wrought  in  ways  we  have  come  to  understand. 
The  spirit  of  poetry  we  may  not  define,  but  its  manner  is 
more  readily  understood.  We  know  that  when  the  mind 
institutes  a  comparison  and  phrases  it  in  words,  the  result 
is  a  figure — a  turn — of  speech,  and  the  poetic  mind  will 
not  be  content  to  dream,  to  see,  his  comparisons,  but  will 
seek  for  words  wherewith  to  embody  them.  This  is  what 
Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  says^: 

"What  I  may  call  the  constant,  the  habitual^  imagina- 
tion of  a  true  poet  is  shown  by  his  instinct  for  words, — 
those  keys  which  all  may  clatter,  and  which  yield  their 
music  to  so  few.  He  finds  the  inevitable  word  or  phrase, 
unfoimd  before,  and  it  becomes  classical  in  a  moment. 
The  power  of  words  and  the  gift  of  their  selection  are  un- 

*  "The  Nature  and  Elements  of  Poetry,"  p.  240. 


3©  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

comprehended  by  writers  who  have  all  trite  and  hackneyed 
phrases  at  the  pen's  end.  The  imagination  begets  original 
diction,  suggestive  epithets,  verbs  implying  extended 
scenes  and  events,  phrases  which  are  a  delight,  and  which, 
as  we  say,  speak  volumes,  single  notes  which  establish  the 
dominant  tone." 

The  practice  of  phrasing  images  with  delicacy  and  pre- 
cision is  essential  for  good  poetic  expression,  hence  the 
importance  of  a  working  knowledge  of  at  least  the  com- 
monest figures  of  speech  cannot  be  overestimated. 

Some  of  the  most  frequently  used  figurative  forms  are 
appended,  both  in  simple  definition  and  example. 

Simile:  A  formal  comparison  of  unlike  objects,  employ- 
ing such  words  of  comparison  as  like,  as,  like  unto, 
etc. 

True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance, 
As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learnt  to  dance. 
— Pope,  Essay  on  Criticism. 

The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained. 

It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven 

Upon  the  place  beneath. 

— Shakespeare,  Merchant  of  Venice. 

Metaphor:  An  informal  comparison  of  unlike  objects 
by  declaring  or  implying  that  one  thing  is  another,  without 
the  use  of  comparing  words. 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF  POETRY  3 1 

Yes,  Love  indeed  is  light  from  heaven; 

A  spark  of  that  immortal  fire 
With  angels  shared,  by  Alia  given, 

To  lift  from  earth  our  low  desire. 

— Byron,  The  Giaour. 

Antithesis:  A  use  of  contrasts  in  thought  and  expres- 
sion. 

Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new, 
Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow: 
The  year  is  going,  let  him  go ; 
Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

— Tennyson,  In  Memoriam. 

Metonymy:  The  use  of  the  name  of  one  object  when 
another  is  clearly  implied — as  the  cause  for  the  effect,  or 
the  reverse;  the  container  for  the  thing  contained ;  or  the 
sign  for  the  thing  it  stands  for. 

The  bright  death  quivered  at  the  victim's  throat ; 
Touch 'd;  and  I  knew  no  more. 

— Tennyson,  A  Dream  of  Fair  Women. 

Synecdoche:  Closely  akin  to  metonymy,  synecdoche 
makes  some  important  part  of  an  object  stand  for  the 
whole,  or  the  whole  for  the  part. 

The  gilded  parapets  were  crown'd 
With  faces,  and  the  great  tower  fill'd  with  eyes 
Up  to  the  summit,  and  the  trumpets  blew. 

— Tennyson,  Pelleas  and  Etarre. 


32  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Apostrophe:  A  turning  aside  to  address  the  absent  as 
though  present,  the  dead  as  though  Hving,  the  inani- 
mate as  though  animate,  etc. 

Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean, — roll! 

— Byron,  Childe  Harold. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  gates;  and,  ye  everlasting  portals, 
Be  ye  lift  up!   Behold,  the  Worthies  are  there  to  receive 

him, — 
They  who,  in  later  days  or  in  elder  ages,  ennobled 
Britain's  dear  name. 

— SouTHEY,  A    Vision  of  JvAgment. 

Vision:  Treating  the  absent  or  the  distant  as  though 
present  or  within  the  vision. 

I  see  the  wealthy  miller  yet. 

His  double  chin,  his  portly  size, 

*         *         * 

In  yonder  chair  I  see  him  sit, 

Three  fingers  round  the  old  silver  cup — 
I  see  his  gray  eyes  twinkle  yet 

At  his  own  jest — gray  eyes  lit  up 
With  summer  lightnings  of  a  soul 

So  full  of  summer  warmth,  so  glad, 
So  healthy,  sound,  and  clear  and  whole. 

His  memory  scarce  can  make  me  sad. 

— Tennyson,    The    Miller's    Daughter. 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF   POETRY  33 

I  see  the  foam  about  thy  keel, 

I  hear  the  bell  struck  in  the  night, 
I  see  the  cabin  window  bright, 

I  see  the  sailor  at  the  wheel. 

— Tennyson,   In   Memoriam. 

Personification:  Attributing  the  qualities  of  life  to 
the  inanimate. 

Armour  rusting  in  his  halls 
On  the  blood  of  Clifford  calls; — 
"Quell  the  Scot,"  exclaims  the  Lance — 
"Bear  me  to  the  heart  of  France," 
Is  the  longing  of  the  Shield — 
"Tell  thy  name,  thou  trembling  Field; 
Field  of  death,  where'er  thou  be, 
Groan  thou  with  our  victory. " 

— Wordsworth,  Brougham  Castle. 

Hyperbole:  Exaggeration  for  literary  effect. 

So  frowned  the  mighty  combatants  that  Hell 
Grew  darker  at  their  frown. 

— Milton,  Paradise  Lost. 

Irony:  A  form  of  satire  in  which  a  hidden  meaning 
is  suggested,  either  by  declaring  the  opposite  of  what  is 
felt  to  be  the  truth,  or  by  hinting  at  a  condition  of 
affairs  not  creditable  to  the  subject. 

Here,  under  leave  of  Brutus  and  the  rest, 
(For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man, 
So  are  they  all,  all  honorable  men), 


34  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Come  I  to  speak  in  Caesar's  funeral. 
He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me; 
But  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious; 
And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 

— Shakespeare,  Julius  Ccssar. 

Exclamation:  Exclamation  for  literary  effect.     The 
chief  factor  is  the  inverted  sentence  order. 

How  wonderful  is  Death, 
Death  and  his  brother  Sleep! 

— Shelley,  Qtieen  Mob. 

Interrogation:    A  question  put  not  for  information 
but  for  rhetorical  effect. 

Is  it  what  we  love,  or  how  we  love. 
That  makes  true  good? 

— George  Eliot,  The  Spanish  Gypsy. 

Litotes:   Making  a  statement  by  denying  the  reverse 
of  it. 

One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names 
That  were  not  born  to  die. 

— Halleck,    Marco    Bozzaris. 

Chiasm:  A  reversal  of  poetic  order  in  successive  lines. 

Our  very  hopes  belied  our  fears. 

Our  fears  our  hopes  belied; 
We  thought  her  dying  when  she  slept. 

And  sleeping  when  she  died. 

— Hood,  The  Death  Bed. 


THE   LANGUAGE   OF  POETRY  35 

Oxymoron:  Joining  words  which  are  contradictory 
when  taken  literally. 

Beautiful  tyrant,  fiend  angelical! 
Dove-feathered  raven !  wolvish-ravening  lamb ! 
A  damned  saint,  an  honorable  villain ! 

— Shakespeare,  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  In  prose,  try  to  suggest  a  poetic  idea  which  words 
cannot  fully  express. 

2.  Examine  about  fifty  lines  of  any  well-known  poem 
and  note  {a)  the  number  of  "poetic"  words,  {b)  the  number 
of  common  words. 

3.  See  if  you  can  find  any  words  used  in  a  standard  poem 
which  in  your  opinion  do  not  belong  in  serious  poetry,  and 
suggest  better  words. 

4.  Give  prose  examples  of  your  own  making  of  all  the 
figures  of  speech  named  on  pages  31-32. 

X  5.  {a)  What  is  a  trite,  or  hackneyed,  expression?     (6) 
Illustrate,    (c)  Recast  so  as  to  improve, 
X,   6.  Explain  the  advantages  of  a  new  expression  over  a 
hackneyed  one. 

7.  What  classes  of  words  should  a  poet  seldom  use  in  his 
poetry? 

8.  By  quoting,  show  how  the  language  of  true  poetry 
may  differ  from  that  of  nonsense  verse. 

X  9.  Giveatleast  three  original  examples  of  the  following: 
(a)  Suggestive  words,  {h)  Compounds  of  the  Homeric 
type. 


36  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

10.  Take  any  ordinary  poem  and,  without  altering  the 
rhymes,  number  of  syllables  in  a  line,  and  the  location  of 
accent,  substitute  other  words,  not  with  a  view  to  "im- 
proving" the  poem,  but  solely  for  the  sake  of  enlarging 
your  vocabulary. 

11.  Make  a  list  of  twenty-five  common  words  and  set 
opposite  each  a  poetic  synonym. 

X  12.  Invent — in  prose — the  freshest  possible  compari- 
sons, using  varied  figurative  forms,  for  (a)  an  ocean  wave, 
(b)  a  baby's  smile,  (c)  a  soldier's  frown,  (d)  a  bird's  song, 
— and  at  least  six  other  things  of  your  own  choosing. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   ANALYSIS   OF   VERSE 

Verse  may  be  rhythmical;  it  may  be  merely  alliterative;  it 
may,  like  the  French,  depend  wholly  on  the  (quasi)  regular 
recurrence  of  the  rhyme;  or,  like  the  Hebrew,  it  may  consist  in 
the  strangely  fanciful  device  of  repeating  the  same  idea.  It  does 
not  matter  on  what  principle  the  law  is  based,  so  it  be  a  law. 
— Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  On  Some  Technical  Elements  of 
Style  in  Literature. 

Trochee  trips  from  long  to  short ; 
From  long  to  long  in  solemn  sort 
Slow  Spondee  stalks,  strong  foot,  yet  ill  able 
Ever  to  come  up  with  Dactyl  trisyllable. 
Iambics  march  from  short  to  long ; 
With  a  leap  and  a  bound  the  swift  Anapaests  throng; 
One  syllable  long  with  one  short  at  each  side 
Amphibrachys  hastes  with  a  stately  stride; 
First  and  last  being  long,  middle  short,  Amphimacer 
Strikes  his  thundering  hoofs  like  a  proud  high-bred  racer. 

— Coleridge. 

The  earliest  poetry  was  born  of  music  and  dancing;  and 
although  we  often  forget  this  origin,  sound  and  movement 
are  still  the  two  elements  that  govern  verse.  Somewhat 
more  narrowly  than  Mr.  Stevenson,  we  may  therefore  lay 
down  this  law:  Verse  must  consist  of  a  succession  of 
pleasing — or  at  least  peculiarly  expressive — sounds,  set 
in  a  pattern  of  rhythmic  time.  Hence  the  value  of  both 
sound  and  movement  in  their  relations  to  verse  will  be 
fully  developed  as  these  studies  progress. 


38  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

I.  The  Relation  of  Spirit  to  Form 

If  you  wish  to  turn  your  philosophy,  or  your  patriotism, 
or  your  religion,  into  poetry,  well  and  good,  but  the  fact 
that  your  philosophy  is  deep,  or  yoiu"  patriotism  lofty,  or 
your  religion  lovely,  will  not  of  necessity  make  your  poetry 
so — the  spirit  must  be  clothed  upon  with  body,  and  the 
body  must  be  of  form  suitable  for  the  appareling  of  so 
deep,  lofty,  and  lovely  a  spirit.  The  highest  poetic  ideas, 
if  clumsily  expressed,  can  never  take  their  place  as  poetry, 
for  poetry  is  not  only  the  spirit  of  the  ideal,  but  it  is  the 
spirit  of  the  ideal  expressed  suitably  and  effectively.  This, 
then,  is  why  we  insist  upon  a  knowledge,  and  even  a  mas- 
tery, of  the  forms  of  verse — those  poetic  ideas  are  most 
effective  which  are  so  clothed  with  language,  and  arranged 
in  such  verbal  order,  as  to  harmonize  spirit  and  form  per- 
fectly. In  technical  language,  good  poetry  consists  of  good 
poetic  ideas  couched  in  good  verse — that  is,  arranged  in 
a  succession  of  pleasing  syllables,  and  ordered  in  rhythmic 
sequence. 

The  expression  "pleasing  syllables"  is  used  advisedly 
because  the  pleasure  derived  from  poetry  may  in  certain 
instances  be  independent  of  its  meaning.  At  first  this 
appears  to  be  heresy,  but  it  is  true.  For  example,  it  is 
possible  for  a  person  with  no  knowledge  of  German  to  feel 
a  distinct  delight  in  reading  Heine's  lyrics,  and  for  another, 
ignorant  of  Greek,  to  enjoy  a  recitation  from  Homer  or 
Sophocles.  It  is  apparent,  of  course,  that  this  is  due  to  the 
musical  nature  of  verse.  Naturally,  too,  where  the  words 
are   vmderstood,    and   where    the   sound,    meaning,    and 


THE  ANALYSIS   OF   VERSE  39 

rhythm  enhance  one  another,  the  pleasure  is  highest;  but 
when  only  the  sonorous  and  rhythmical  qualities  of  poetry 
are  felt,  the  pleasure  may  be  none  the  less  really  experi- 
enced. On  the  other  hand,  the  pleasure  derived  from  an 
imperfect  apprehension  of  a  poetic  idea — as  when  it  is  but 
vaguely  in  the  mind,  badly  expressed  in  sound  and  move- 
ment, or  crudely  recited — will  be  inferior  to  the  enjoy- 
ment derived  from  the  harmonious,  sonorous,  and  rhyth- 
mical expression  of  a  lofty  poetic  sentiment:  in  other 
words,  from  good  poetry. 

For  the  writing  of  successful  verse,  three  things  are 
necessary:  an  idea,  emotion,  and  technical  expression;  and 
in  good  poetry  these  three  are  one.  The  two  former  are  not 
always  to  be  had  for  the  asking,  but  technical  expression 
may  be  studied  and  cultivated. 

It  is  obvious  that  individuals  vary  greatly  in  their  sensi- 
tiveness to  the  value  of  words  and  the  sounds  of  words, 
just  as  one  man  may  have  an  ear  for  music  and  another  be 
unable  to  recognize  an  air  after  hearing  it  twenty  times; 
or  one  person  may  readily  distinguish  delicate  shades  of 
color  and- another  be  color-blind.  The  poetic  equipment 
should  include  a  natural  sense  of  language,  but  the  average 
person  may  be  made  to  recognize  good  word-grouping  when 
it  is  pointed  out;  he  may  learn  by  analysis  why  it  is  good, 
and  if  he  has  interest  and  enthusiasm  he  will  want  to  try  to 
make  something  similar  himself.  Given  poetic  ideas  and 
the  emotions  arising  from  them,  there  should  be  no  excuse 
for  the  verse-writer's  expressing  these  ideas  badly,  for 
that  means  either  ignorance  or  laziness — or  both.  There- 
fore, having  considered  the  nature  of  poetry  as  thought 


40  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

and  emotion,  we  are  now  to  give  attention  to  the  means  of 
its  adequate  expression. 

2.  Meter 


Meter,  or  the  form  in  which  poetry  is  cast,  means 
measure.  Greek  verse  was  measured  by  the  number  of 
foot-beats  forwards  and  backwards  in  the  dance.  The  tirrie 
required  for  the  rise  and  fall  of  one  foot  was  very  naturally 
called  a  joot.  Since  the  poem  was  chanted  or  sung  as  an 
accompaniment  to  the  dance — which,  as  we  have  seen, 
was  generally  an  important  element  in  primitive  religious 
ceremonials — the  syllables  marked  by  the  stress  of  the 
voice  necessarily  corresponded  to  the  beat  of  the  foot  in 
marking  time.  The  measures  were  named  from  the 
arrangement  of  long  and  short  syllables.  The  iambus 
was  a  short,  then  a  long  syllable;  the  trochee  a  long, 
then  a  short  syllable;  the  anapcest  two  short  syllables, 
then  a  long  one;  the  dactyl  a  long,  then  two  short 
syllables.  These,  with  other  more  complicated  combi- 
nations, must  be  examined  in  detail  later. 

English  poetry  followed,  in  a  ruder  way,  the  same  line  of 
development  as  the  Greek;  it  too  was  bom  of  music  and 
dancing,  and  arose,  in  dim  Teutonic  times,  in  the  solemn 
chant  which  accompanied  the  march  or  dance  in  primitive 
religious  rites.  The  rhyming  games  of  children  are  a  sur- 
vival of  the  primitive  instinct  to  associate  foot-movements 
with  chant  or  song. 

When  verse  in  England  ceased  to  be  a  spontaneous 
singing,  and  the  learned  tried  to  reduce  it  to  rule,  they 
naturally   attempted    to   apply   the   classical   system    of 


THE  ANALYSIS   OF  VERSE  4 1 

measurement  to  English  poetry.  But  at  once  they  en- 
coimtered  a  difficulty.  The  rules  of  Greek  and  Latin 
meters  were  based  on  the  combination  and  contrast  of 
long  and  short  syllables,  according  to  the  length  of  time 
required  to  pronounce  them.  This  quality  of  length  we 
call 

J.  Quantity 

A  long  syllable  was  counted  as  equal  to  two  short  ones, 
in  the  classics;  but  in  English,  there  was  no  such  rule. 
Although  as  a  matter  of  fact  all  English  syllables  do  not 
take  quite  the  same  length  of  time  to  pronounce — the 
syllables  of  viol  for  instance  being  shorter  than  those 
of  landmark — it  was  not  possible  to  base  a  system  of 
meter  on  these  differences.  Poetry  was  already  written, 
much  of  it  was  beautiful  and  noble,  but  when  wise  men 
tried  to  analyze  it  they  found  that  the  classical  system  of 
measurement  would  not  fit.  English  meters,  they  found, 
were  based,  not  on  quantity,  or  length  of  syllables,  but  on 
accent,  or  stress  upon  certain  syllables,  somewhat  corres- 
ponding to  beat  in  musical  measure. 

4.  Accent 

All  English  words,  they  saw,  could  be  resolved  into  syl- 
lables, strong  or  weak,  accented  or  imaccented,  rather  than 
long  or  short.  They  therefore  divided  the  lines  of  English 
poetry  into  feet,  counting  the  English  strong  syllable  as 
equal  to  the  Greek  long  syllable,  the  English  weak  syllable 
as  equal  to  the  Greek  short  syllable,  and  adopted  the  old 
classic  names,  iambic,  trochaic,  anapaestic,  dactylic,  etc., 


42  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

to  describe  these  measures,  or  succession  of  syllables 
according  to  accent. 

Let  us  throw  aside  for  the  moment  these  two  systems 
based  on  quantity  and  accent,  and  commence  with  what  is 
apparently  the  simplest  method  of  measuring  verse — that 
of  counting  syllables. 

Take  the  first  stanza  of  a  famous  poem,  which  has  been 
said  to  be  absolutely  perfect  in  word  and  workmanship, 
Gray's  "Elegy  in  a  Coimtry  Churchyard." 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day,  lo 

The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea,  lo 

The  plowman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way,  lo 

And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me.  lo 

If  we  count  the  syllables  we  shall  see  that  there  are  ten 
in  each  line — all  the  lines  are  of  exactly  the  same  length. 
Is  that  the  reason  why  the  verse  sounds  so  smooth  and 
regular?  It  is  one  reason,  but  not  the  only  one.  Let  us 
see  if  we  can  find  another  reason. 

We  know,  of  course,  that  all  the  lines  in  a  poem  need  not 
be,  like  Gray's,  of  equal  length.  If  we  read  the  second 
stanza  of  another  well-known  poem,  Longfellow's  "  Psalm 
of  Life,"  we  shall  see  that  the  first  and  third  lines  have 
eight  syllables  each,  while  the  second  and  fourth  lines 
number  only  seven  syllables. 

Life  is  real!  Life  is  earnest!  8 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal;  7 

Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  retumest,  8 

Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul.  7 


THE   ANALYSIS   OF   VERSE  43 

This  stanza  also  reads  smoothly.  We  shall  see,  then,  that 
our  lines  need  not  all  be  of  equal  length.  Does  the  fact 
that  these  lines  balance  each  other,  alternating  eight 
syllables,  seven  syllables,  eight  syllables,  seven  syllables, 
make  the  verse  read  smoothly?  That  also  is  one  reason, 
but  again  not  the  only  one. 

Take  the  first  stanza  of  this  same  poem  of  Longfellow's, 
and  we  see  that  the  last  line  does  not  read  quite  smoothly : 

Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers,  8 

Life  is  but  an  empty  dream,  7 

For  the  soul  is  dead  that  slumbers,  8 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem.  7 

We  find  a  certain  awkwardness  in  this  last  line  if  we  try 
to  read  it  aloud  in  a  rhythmical  manner — that  is,  with 
regular  succession  of  accents — because  we  have  to  pro- 
nounce the  initial  word  "and"  with  more  emphasis  than 
the  sense  indicates.  It  would  be  possible  to  take  this  line 
and  use  it  as  the  initial  line  of  a  nonsense  stanza  as  follows^ 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 
And  life  is  naught  but  a  show, 

And  cats  will  eat  up  the  cream. 
And  always  it  shall  be  so. 

What  has  happened?  The  line  is  exactly  the  same  but 
we  read  it  very  differently.  The  time-scheme  is  com- 
pletdy  altered.  Instead  of  saying,  as  in  the  Longfellow 
stanza, 

r  >  t  I 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 


44  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

we  find  ourselves  saying, 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 

We  see,  then,  that  in  our  simple  method  of  measuring 
verse  by  the  number  of  syllables,  we  must  reckon  with 
something  else :  that  something  is  accent.  To  emphasize 
its  importance  we  shall  use  the  terms  accented  or 
unaccented  syllables  instead  of  strong  or  weak   syllables. 

Accent  is  also  sometimes  called  stress,  and  sometimes 
beat.  It  is  the  emphasis  which  the  voice  involuntarily  places 
on  certain  syllables  when  pronounced  properly  in  the  lan- 
guage to  which  they  belong.  To  the  regular  recurrence 
of  accent,  half  our  pleasure  in  English  verse  is  due.  The 
place  where  the  accent  falls  gives  the  form  and 
also  the  name  to  our  meter.  Let  us  read  again  the  first 
stanza  of  Gray's  "Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard"  and 
mark  the  accents. 

t  f  til 

The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day, 
II  III 

The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 

/  /  III 

The  plowman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way, 
/  III 

And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 

We  see  that  every  other  syllable  is  accented,  beginning 
with  the  second.  The  accent  falls  with  absolute  regularity. 
This,  then,  is  the  reason  that  the  verse  sounds  so  smooth  and 
regular.  We  have  found  the  first  great  law  governing 
English  verse,  accent. 

Let  us  mark  the  accents  in  the  second  stanza  of 
"A  Psalm  of  Life. " 


THE   ANALYSIS   OF   VERSE  45 

t  I  t  t 

Life  is  real!  Life  is  earnest! 

t  lit 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal; 

/  til 

Dust  thou  art,  to  dust '  returnest, 

I  It  I 

Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul. 

We  see  that  instead  of  falling  on  the  second  syllable,  as 
in  Gray's  "Elegy,"  the  accent  in  the  "Psalm  of  Life" 
falls  on  the  first  syllable,  which  reverses  the  beat  and 
changes  the  character  of  the  verse.  The  accent,  however, 
falls  regularly,  and  so  that  the  stanza  reads  smoothly. 

The  trouble  with  the  line 

I  I  I  I 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem, 

is  that  to  read  it  in  harmony  with  the  preceding  lines,  we 
have  to  put  the  accent  on  a  syllable  where  it  would  not 
naturally  fall  in  simple  speech  and  according  to  the  mean- 
ing. 

We  therefore  see  that  we  must  reckon  with  two  kinds  of 
accent:  verse-accent  and  word-accent,  and  that  in  English 
poetry  the  two  should  normally  fall  on  the  same  syllable. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

>f  I.  Give  in  your  own  words  a  definition  of  the  metrical 
foot. 

2.  How  does  the  foot  in  English  verse  differ  from  one  in 
Greek  or  Latin  meter? 

X  3.  Is  it  always  necessary  for  a  good  writer  to  put  the 
regular  number  of  syllables  in  a  line?    Give  reasons. 

4.  Quote  one  or  more  lines  that  contain  less  syllables 


46  THE   ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

than  their  corresponding  lines,  and  say  whether  in  your 
opinion  the  poet  omitted  syllables  purposely,  and  if  so, 
why. 
X  5-  Write  a  stanza  containing  one  or  more  words  of  un- 
usual emphasis — as  a  threat,  or  a  cry  of  fear — and  experi- 
ment whether  a  pause  (an  omission  in  the  regular  meter) 
after  the  important  word  helps  or  mars  the  verse. 

Note:  The  whole  subject  of  Irregularities  will  be 
treated  later. 

6.  Try  to  find  one  or  more  poetic  lines  which  give  a  dis- 
tinctly pleasurable  sound  independent  of  the  sense. 

7.  Define  (a)  meter,  (b)  quantity,  (c)  accent. 

8.  Mark  the  accents  on  two  varying  stanzas  from  dif- 
ferent poems. 

9.  Try  to  find  an  example  in  which  the  word-accent 
and  the  verse-accent  are  not  identical — that  is,  do  not  fall 
on  the  same  syllable. 

H  10.  Hand  in  a  single  short  specimen  of  your  own  verse, 
marking  any  improvements  or  changes  on  the  margin,  or, 
if  the  poem  is  printed,  on  an  accompanying  sheet. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   FOOT 

The  office  of  the  poet  as  a  teacher  of  the  chorus  demanded  a 
practical  knowledge  of  all  that  passed  under  the  term  "  dancing, ' ' 
including  steps,  gestures,  attitudes,  and  the  various  resources  of 
rhythmical  movement.  .  .  .  The  very  word  poet  in  classi- 
cal times  often  implies  the  two-fold  character  of  poet  and 
musician,  and  in  later  writers  is  sometimes  used,  like  our  com- 
poser, in  a  strictly  limited  reference  to  music. 

— S.  H.  Butcher,  Aristotle's  Theory  of  Poetry  and  Fine  Art. 

We  have  said  that  Greek  verse  was  origmally  measured 
by  the  time  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  one  foot-step  forward  and 
backward  in  the  dance.  The  term  foot  therefore  came  to 
mean  a  group  of  syllables  which  could  be  uttered  within 
the  time  of  this  foot-movement.  At  least  one  syllable  of 
the  group  was  long,  corresponding  to  the  thesis,  or  the 
setting  down  of  the  foot,  and  was  placed  in  the  verse  where 
the  heat  came  in  the  music.  This  formed  accent,  or  stress, 
in  the  verse.  The  other  syllable  or  syllables  of  the  group 
was  short,  corresponding  to  the  arsis,  or  the  raising  of  the 
foot,  and  was  less  prominent,  or  imaccented.  As  English 
verse  is  not  divided  into  long  and  short  syllables,  but  into 
accented  and  unaccented  syllables,  the  English  accented 
syllable  is  considered  to  represent  the  Greek  long  syllable, 
and  the  English  unaccented  syllable  is  held  to  be  equal  to 
the  Greek  short  syllable. 

We  have  said  that  accent,  which  is  the  basis  of  this  foot 


48  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

division,  gives  both  form  and  name  to  English  meter.    Let 
us  see  some  of  the  forms  and  names. 

I.  The  Iambus,    or  Iambic  Foot 

The  cur  |  few  tolls  |  the  knell  |  of  part  |  ing  day,         lo 

t  t  /  r  / 

The  low  I  ing  herd  |  winds  slow  |  ly  o'er  |  the  lea,         lo 

I  >  tit 

The  plow  I  man  home  |  ward  plods  |  his  wea  |  ry  way,  lo 

/  t  I  t  I 

And  leaves  |  the  world  |  to  dark  |  ness  and  |  to  me.     lo 

We  see  that  each  line  of  this  stanza  consists  of  a  regular 
succession  of  alternating  unaccented  (or  weak),  and  ac- 
cented (or  strong),  syllables.  These  syllables  fall  naturally 
into  groups  of  two,  and  each  group  we  call  a.  foot.  The  first 
syllable  in  each  foot  is  unaccented,  the  second  is  accented. 

If  we  turn  to  our  glossary,  we  shall  see  that  a  foot  con- 
sisting of  two  syllables,  the  first  of  which  is  unaccented  (or 
weak),  and  the  second  accented  (or  strong),  is  called  an 
iambus.  Gray's  "Elegy"  is  therefore  written  in  iambic 
measure. 

Other  Examples  of  Iambic  Measure 

/  t  t  t 

Come  live  |  with  me  |  and  be  |  my  love. 

— Marlowe,  The  Passionate  Shepherd. 

I  tit 

I  did  I  but  dream.  ( I  nev  |  er  knew 

I  It  I 

What  charms  |  our  stern  |  est  sea  |  son  wore. 

— Whittier,   The  Clear   Vision. 


THE  FOOT  49 

* 
f  f  I  It 

He  ceased;  |  and  Sa  |  tan  stay'd  |  not  to  |  reply.  [ 

— Milton,  Paradise  Lost. 

Iambic  measure  (which  may  include  any  number  of 
syllables  from  two  to  fourteen  to  the  line)  is  the  measure 
most  congenial  to  the  English  language,  because  the  native 
accent  of  our  speech  falls  naturally  into  iambics.  Hence, 
a  very  large  proportion  of  English  poetry  is  written  in 
iambic  measure,  and  this  proportion  includes  both  the 
simplest  and  the  grandest  poems  in  the  language;  it  is 
equally  suited  to  the  simple  measure  of  Wordsworth's 
"Lucy," 

She  dwelt  |  alone  |  and  few  |  could  know  | 


When  Lu  |  cy  ceased  |  to  be. 


and  to  the  stately  march  of  Milton's  blank  verse,  an  ex- 
cerpt from  which  follows  as  the  second  example. 

With  head  a  while  inclined, 
And  eyes  fast  fixed,  he  stood,  as  one  who  prayed, 
Or  some  great  matter  in  his  mind  revolved : 
At  last,  with  head  erect,  thus  cried  aloud : — 
"Hitherto,  Lords,  what  your  commands  imposed 
I  have  performed,  as  reason  was,  obeying. 
Not  without  wonder  or  delight  beheld; 
Now,  of  my  own  accord,  such  other  trial 
I  mean  to  show  you  of  my  strength,  yet  greater, 
As  with  amaze  shall  strike  all  who  behold. " 
This  uttered,  straining  all  his  nerves  he  bowed; 
As  with  the  force  of  winds  and  waters  pent 


5©  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

It 

When  mountains  tremble,  those  two  massy  pillars 
With  horrible  convulsion  to  and  fro 
He  tugged,  he  shook,  till  down  they  came,  and  drew 
The  whole  roof  after  them  with  burst  of  thunder 
Upon  the  heads  of  all  who  sat  beneath. 

— Milton,  Samson  Agonistes. 

2.  The  Trochee,  or  Trochaic  Foot 

I  I  I  I 

Life  is  I  real!  |    Life  is  |  earnest!  | 

I  I  t  I  . 

And  the  ]  grave  is  |  not  its  |  goal; 
/  t  t  I 

Dust  thou  I  art,  to  |  dust  re  |  tumest, 
f  tit 

Was  not  I  spoken  |  of  the  |  soul. 

The  foregoing  selection  falls  naturally  into  groups  of 
two  syllables  each,  forming  the  feet  into  which  we  divide  it. 
The  first  syllable  is  accented  (or  strong),  the  second  is 
imaccented  (or  weak).  Our  glossary  tells  us  that  a  foot  of 
two  syllables,  the  first  accented,  the  second  unaccented, 
is  a  trochee.  "A  Psalm  of  Life"  is  therefore  in  trochaic 
measure.  (Note.  The  last  foot  of  the  second  and  of  the 
fourth  line  drops  one  syllable  from  the  usual  number.  A 
line  which  thus  drops  one  syllable  is  called  a  catalectic 
line). 

Other  Examples  of  Trochaic  Measure 

I  t  t 

Go  where  |  glory  ]  waits  thee  | 

— Moore. 


THE  FOOT  51 

t  t  t  t 

Read  this  |  song  of  |  Hia  |  watha.  | 

— ^Longfellow,    Hiawatha. 

t  t  t  I  t  t 

There's     a  |  lady,  |  an    earl's  |  daughter,  |  she    is  |  proud 

and  I  she  is  |  noble.  | 
— Mrs.  Browning,  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship. 

J.  The  Anapast,  or  Anapcsstic  Foot 

t  t  t 

And   the  sheen  |  of  their  spears  |  was  like  stars  |  on  the 

sea.  I 

— Byron,    The    Destruction    of  Sennacharib. 

t  t  t 

From  the  cen  |  tre  all  round  |  to  the  sea  | 

I  am  lord  |  of  the  fowl  |  and  the  brute. 

— CowPER,  The  Solitude  of  Alexander  Selkirk. 

Of  the  four  commonest  forms  of  time-scheme,  the  third 
is  the  anapcest,  which,  as  the  foregoing  examples  illustrate, 
consists  of  two  imaccented  syllables  followed  by  one  which 
is  accented. 

4.  The  Dactyl,  or  Dactylic  Foot 

Cannon  to  |  right  of  them. 

Cannon  to  |  left  of  them, 

Cannon  in  |  front  of  them. 
— Tennyson,  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 


52  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

One    more    un  |  fortunate,  | 

Weary  of  |  breath, 

Rashly   im-  |  portunate, 

Gone  to  her  |  death! 

Take  her  up  |  tenderly. 

Lift  her  with  |  care! 

Fashioned  so  [  slenderly, 

Young,  and  so  ]  fair! 

— Thomas  Hood,  The  Bridge  of  Sighs. 

A  ddctyl  is  a  foot  of  three  syllables,  the  first  syllable 
accented,  the  second  and  third  syllables  unaccented — just 
the  reverse  of  the  anapaest,  as  the  trochee  is  the  reverse  of 
the  iambus.     (Some  of  the  foregoing  lines  are  catalectic.) 

5.  Scanning 

To  divide  a  line  into  its  constituent  feet,  to  mark  the 
accented  and  unaccented  syllables,  to  count  the  feet 
and  name  their  character,  is  called  scanning.  As  a 
Socratic  illustration,  and  also  to  furnish  some  exercises 
which  are  especially  needed  before  we  take  up  the  next 
section,  let  us  scan  the  first  line  of  "Gray's  Elegy  in  a 
Country  Churchyard": 

ft  tit 

The  cur  |  few  tolls  |  the  knell  |  of  part  |  ing  day. 

How  does  the  accent  fall? 

A  n  unaccented  syllable  is  followed  by  an  accented  one. 


»  THE   FOOT  53 

What  is  the  name  of  this  measure? 

Iambic. 

How  many  feet  are  there  in  each  line;  not  syllables, 
mind,  hut  feet? 

There  are  ten  syllables,  but  only  five  feet.  Our  glossary 
tells  us  that  a  line  of  five  feet  is  a  pentameter.  Gray's 
^^Elegy,"  therefore,  is  written  in  iambic  pentameter. 

We   have    already  seen  that  "A    Psalm  of    Life"  is 

written  in  trochaic  measure. 

How  many  feet  in  the  first  line? 

In  the  second? 

Find  the  name  for  each  line  by  referring  to  the  glossary. 

What  is  a  catalectic  line? 

What  is  the  measure  of  the  following  line? 

t  I  ft 

And  his  co  |  horts  were  gleam  |  ing  with  pur  |  pie  and  gold. 

Anapcestic. 

How  many  anapaestic  feet  in  the  line? 
What  then  shall  we  call  the  line? 
What  is  the  character  of  the  feet  in   the  first  line  of 
"  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade"? 
Dactylic. 

How  many  feet  in  the  line? 
Two. 

What  then  shall  we  call  the  line? 
Dactylic  Dimeter. 

6.  The  Law  of  Quantity  in  English  Verse 

We  have  seen  that  English  verse  is  governed  primarily 


54  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

by  accent;  but  quantity,  or  the  law  governing  the  time  of 
certain  syllables,  must  not  be  lightly  dismissed. 

How  shall  we  read  the  following  line  from  Wordsworth? 

/  II  I 

A  vio  I  let  by  ]  a  mos  |  sy  stone. 

This  is  four-foot  iambic  measure,  and  yet  we  have  said 
that  an  iambic  foot  consists  of  two  syllables.  Shall  we 
pronounce  "violet"  as  "vi'iet?"  Surely  not.  We  have 
said  that  the  syllables  of  "viol"  are  really  shorter  than 
those  of  "landmark."  We  could  not  scan  "A  landmark 
low  by  a  mossy  stone"  as  four- foot  iambic  measure,  but 
we  can  so  scan,  "A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone, "  for  the  extra 
short  syllable  gives  an  effect  akin  to  that  of  a  grace  note 
in  music — that  is,  it  is  slipped  in  with  a  light  touch,  so  to 
say.  In  the  hands  of  a  master,  such  irregularities  add  new 
and  imsuspected  beauties  to  meter,  but  a  tyro  should 
attempt  them  sparingly.^ 

Another  such  device  is  the  use  of  a  pause.  Take  the 
following  stanza  from  Tennyson: 

Birds  in  the  high  Hall-garden 
Were  crying  and  calling  to  her. 

Where  is  Maud,  Maud,  Maud? 
One  is  come  to  woo  her. 

Here  the  au  in  "Maud"  is  a  diphthong  and  may  be  said 

■  to  be  pronounced  long,  but  are  the  five  syllables  of  the 

third  line  really  equal  to  the  seven  of  the  first?    No,  they 

are  not,  yet  the  lines  balance.    We  find  that  the  effect  is 

*  See  chapter  on  Irregularities. 


THE  FOOT  55 

produced  by  the  instinctive  pause  after  the  word  Maud, 
Where  is  Maud — Maud — Maud? 

and  that  these  pauses  serve  to  lengthen  the  line.    Tenny- 
son uses  the  same  device  in  the  well-known  lines, 
Break!  Break!   Break! 
On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  O  sea! 

Coleridge  also  uses  it  in  the  opening  lines  of  "  Christabel: " 

'Tis  the  middle  of  night  by  the  castle  clock, 
And  the  owls  have  awaken'd  the  crowing  cock; 
Tu-whit !     Tu-whoo ! 

We  see,  therefore,  that  additional  short  syllables  are 
occasionally  allowable,  and  that  a  long  syllable  followed 
by  a  pause  may  be  used  to  lengthen  a  line.  Such  use  of 
pauses  does  not,  however,  strictly  correspond  to  quantity 
in  the  classical  sense,  though  we  may  say  that  quantity 
occurs  as  a  minor  element  in  English  verse. 

In  summing  up  we  see  that: 

English  verse  is  governed  primarily  by  accent. 

Verse-accent  and  word-accent  should  coincide, 

Quantity  is  used  as  a  minor  element. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 
)(  I.  Scan  (mark  the  accents  and  feet  in)  the  following: 

Maiden  crowned  with;  glossy  slackness, 
Lithe  as ;  panther  forest-roaming, 


56  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Long-armed  naiad^  when  she  dances, 

On  a  stream  of  ether  floating. 
— George  Eliot;  Song  from  the  Spanish  Gypsy. 


(b) 


(c) 


y  (^ 


As  I  sat  sorrowing, 

Love  came  and  bade  me  sing 

A  joyous  song  and  meet; 
For  see  (said  he)  each  thing 
Is  merry  for  the  Spring, 

And  every  bird  doth  greet 
The  break  of  blossoming, 
That  all  the  woodlands  ring 

Unto  yoimg  hours'  feet. 

— John  Payne,  Spring  Sadness. 

Loudly  the  sailors  cheered 
Svend  of  the  Forked  Beard. 

— Longfellow,  Saga  of  King  Olaf- 

Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love. 

— Marlowe,  The  Passionate  Shepherd. 


(e) 
Tell  me  what  thy  lordly  name  is  on  the  night's  Plutonian 
shore. 

— PoE,  The  Raven. 

if) 

I  think  of  thee! — my  thoughts  do  twine  and  bud 

About  thee,  as  wild  vines  about  a  tree, — 

Put  out  broad  leaves,  and  soon  there's  nought  to  see 


THE  FOOT  57 

Except  the  straggling  green  which  hides  the  wood. 

— Mrs.  Browning,  Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese. 

I  am  monarch  of  allu  survey,  ^^^if^/^^-" " 

Of  my  right  there  is  'none  to  dispute. 

— CowPER,  The  Solitude  of  Alexander  Selkirk. 

2.  (a)  In  what  two  ways  might  this  single  line  from  one 
of  Shakespeare's  sonnets  be  scanned? 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought, 

{h)  Joined  to  its  accompanying  lines,  how  would  you 
scan  it? 

When  to  the  sessions  of  sweet  silent  thought, 
I  summon  up  remembrance  of  things  past, 

I  sigh  the  lack  of  many  a  thing  I  sought. 
And  with  old  woes  new  wail  my  dear  time's  waste; 

y^T,.  Write  a  line  in  iambic  and  one  in  trochaic  meter. 
»(^4.  Say  which  seems  better  suited  for  spirited  expression. 

5.  Why  is  English  verse  most  commonly  written  in  the 
iambic  form? 

6.  Name  several  poems,  not  mentioned  in  this  chapter, 
that  are  iambic  in  movement,  and  several  that  are  trochaic. 

7.  Name  one  or  more  in  anapaestic  form  and  one  or  more 
in  dactylic  form. 

8.  What  is  your  understanding  of  the  rule  that  "verse- 
accent  and  word-accent  should  coincide?" 

9.  Which  form  of  meter  seems  to  you  best  suited  to  the 
expression  of  serious  thought? 


58  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

10.  What  forms  seem  well  adapted  to  expression  in 
lighter  vein? 

11.  How  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  an  irregularity 
in  meter  sometimes  adds  to  the  charm  of  a  poetic  line? 

12.  Point  out  several  irregularities  in  the  foregoing 
stanzas.  Note  that  there  is  a  difference  between  the  intro- 
duction into  a  line  of  an  odd  foot  and  the  mere  omission 
of  a  foot  or  a  part  of  a  foot  in  order  to  effect  a  pause. 
This  subject  of  irregularities  receives  fuller  treatment 
later. 

V  13.  Write  stanzas,  using  the  same  foundation  idea,  in 
each  of  the  following  foot-forms:  (a)  Iambic,  (b)  Trochaic, 
(c)  Anapaestic,  (d)  Dactylic. 

V  14.  Which  form  seemed  most  natural  to  you?    Why? 
15.  Select  a  form  best  suited  to  the  spirit  of  your  thought 

and  write  two  stanzas,  doing  the  best  work  of  which  you 
are  capable.  Do  not  at  this  time  allow  yourself  any  varia- 
tions or  irregularities. 


CHAPTER  VI 

RHYTHM 

Measured  intervals  of  time  are  the  basis  of  all  verse,  and  their 
regularity  marks  off  poetry  from  prose;  so  that  time  is  thus  the 
chief  element  in  poetry,  as  it  is  in  music  and  in  dancing.  From 
the  idea  of  measuring  these  time-intervals,  we  derive  the  name 
metre;  rhythm  means  pretty  much  the  same  thing, — "a  flow- 
ing," an  even,  measured  motion.  This  rhythm  is  found  every- 
where in  nature:  the  beat  of  the  heart,  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the 
sea,  the  alternation  of  day  and  night.  Rhythm  is  not  artificial, 
not  an  invention;  it  lies  at  the  heart  of  things,  and  in  rhythm 
the  noblest  emotions  find  their  noblest  expression. 

— Francis  B.  Gummere,  Handbook  of  Poetics. 

In  making  our  analysis  of  verse,  we  found  that  a  line  is 
made  up  of  easily  recognized  groups  of  accented  and  un- 
accented syllables  arranged  in  orderly  succession,  and  that 
each  of  these  groups  is  called  a  foot.  We  must  now  con- 
sider the  relation  of  one  foot  to  another,  not  alone  in  a 
single  line  but  in  a  succession  of  lines. 

A  foot  in  verse  may  be  said  to  correspond  to  a  bar  in 
music,  and  the  regular  recurrence  of  such  feet  or  bars  gives 
us  rhythm.  A  knowledge  of  musical  rhythm,  however, 
is  by  no  means  necessary  to  an  appreciation  of  rhythm  in 
verse,  for  it  is  possible  to  have  a  delicate  ear  for  poetic 
rhythm  and  yet  to  be  ignorant  of  music. 

Rhythm  is  the  movement  which  we  invariably  hear  and 
feel  in  poetry — the  quality  which  poetry  still  shares  with 
its  parent  arts  of  music  and  dancing.    It  is  the  most  funda 


6o  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

mental  and  important  element  of  verse.  We  may  have 
verse  without  rhyme  but  we  cannot  have  verse  without 
rhythm.  Even  Walt  Whitman's  poems  have  a  rude  and 
impressive  rhythm,  produced  by  a  repetition  of  similar 
phrases,  which  will  be  felt  when  we  read  aloud  the  following 
from  "Heroes." 

I  am  an  old  artillerist.    I  tell  of  my  fort's  bombard- 
ment. 
I  am  there  again. 

Again  the  long  roll  of  the  drummers, 
Again  the  attacking  cannon,  mortars, 
Again  to  my  listening  ears  the  cannon  responsive. 

Whitman's  rhythm  is  often  as  insistent  as  the  aforesaid 
attacking  cannon,  or  as  the  blows  of  a  hammer  on  an  anvil, 
and  by  means  of  it,  in  his  best  poems,  he  rouses  our  emo- 
tional excitement  in  much  the  same  way  that  it  is  aroused, 
for  instance,  by  the  overture  from  "Tannhauser." 

It  is  the  rhythmic  movement  of  verse  which  plays  most 
directly  upon  the  emotions.  Even  when  the  poetic  ideas 
are  not  unusually  arousing,  a  spirited  rhythmic  arrange- 
ment of  words  is  sure  to  stir  up  feeling.  It  was  the  rhythm 
of  the  "Marseillaise"  which  roused  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
marching  thousands  who  first  sang  it;  it  was  the  rhythm 
of  the  "Carmagnole"  which  excited  its  singers  and  dancers 
to  the  point  of  murder;  it  is  the  inarticulate  rhythm  of 
the  war-drum  that  goads  a  savage  tribe  to  frenzy.  We  are 
all  more  or  less  affected  by  the  rhythm  of  recurrent  sounds 
and  movements  in  nature:  by  the  surge  and  withdrawal 
of  the  waves  on  the  beach,  or  by  the  moan  of  the  wind  in 


RHYTHM  6 1 

the  trees.  We  are  stirred  by  artificial  rhythmic  sounds 
even  when  unaccompanied  by  words;  we  are  excited  by 
the  clang  of  a  fire-bell,  and  saddened  by  the  tolling  of  a 
dirge.  How  much  more  appealing,  then,  is  that  verse 
which  is  compoimded  of  high  poetic  ideas  embodied  in 
rhjrthmical  form. 

Rhythm,  then,  is  governed  by  time  and  balance,  and  in 
English  verse  it  is  produced  by  a  recurrence  of  accented 
syllables  at  regular  intervals. 

I.  Regular  Rhythm  Unrhymed 

Let  us  consider  an  example  of  regular  rhythm  in  blank 
verse, — the  last  few  lines  of  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost. " 

The  world  was  all  before  them  where  to  choose 

r  r  II  I 

Their  place  of  rest  and  Providence  their  guide. 

II  I  II 

They,  hand  in  hand,  with  wandering  steps  and  slow, 

II  III 

Through  Eden  took  their  solitary  way. 

We  see  that  the  rhythmic  movement  in  these  lines  is 
produced  by  the  recurrence  of  accented  syllables  at  regular 
intervals,  in  other  words  by  time.  Milton's  time-scheme 
gives  us  five  beats  to  the  line,  and  so  insistent  is  this  rule  of 
time  that  in  the  third  line  the  words  "with  wandering 
steps,"  which  contain  five  syllables,  must  count  only  two 
beats,  and  our  extra  syllable  must  be  pronounced  lightly, 
giving,  as  before  noted,  the  effect  of  a  grace-note  in  music. 


62  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

We  see  that  these  lines  are  of  the  same  length  and  balance 
each  other.   Rhythm  is  thus  governed  by  time  and  balance. 

2.  Regular  Rhythm  Rhymed 

/  tit 

I  come  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hem, 
lit 
I  make  a  sudden  sally, 
III  I 

And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 
III 
To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

— Tennyson,  The  Brook. 

In  this  selection  we  have  four  time-beats  in  the  first  line 
and  four  in  the  third.  In  the  second  line,  we  have  only 
three  time-beats,  because  the  line  drops  a  syUable.  Is  it 
therefore  irregular?  No,  for  it  is  exactly  balanced  by  the 
fourth  line,  which  also  gives  us  three  time-beats  and  lacks 
a  syllable.  The  ear  anticipates  the  form  of  the  fourth  line 
and  recognizes  it  with  something  akin  to  delight. 

Indeed,  if  the  law  of  balance  be  observed,  a  line  of  irregu- 
lar length  or  unusual  time-beat  may  often  be  used  with 
fine  rhythmical  effect,  finding  its  echo  in  a  similar  line 
further  along. 

J.  Unusual  Rhythm  Unrhymed 

I  III  I 

There  they  are,  my  fifty  men  and  women 

/  till 

Naming  me  the  fifty  poems  finished! 

/  /  III 

Take  them.  Love,  the  book  and  me  together: 

/  /  III 

Where  the  heart  lies,  let  the  brain  lie  also. 

— Browning,  Orie  Word  More. 


RHYTHM  63 

This  example,  as  may  be  seen,  has  ten  syllables  and  five 
beats  to  the  line,  like  the  selection  from  "Paradise  Lost," 
but  the  unusualness  of  the  rhythm  is  caused  by  having 
the  beat  come  on  the  first  syllable  instead  of  on  the  second; 
in  other  words,  the  lines  are  in  trochaic  meter  instead  of  in 
iambic  meter.  We  are  so  used  to  having  blank  verse 
written  in  iambic  meter  that  when  Browning  reverses  the 
beat  it  strikes  us  as  something  entirely  fresh,  and  we  at 
first  think  that  he  has  added  a  syllable.  But  it  is  not  so. 
Notwithstanding  this  apparent  irregularity,  Browning 
observes  the  law  of  time;  his  unusual  beat  falls  with  abso- 
lute regularity,  and  he  observes  the  law  of  balance,  too, 
the  lines  echoing  one  another. 

Although  it  is  possible  to  build  up  a  rhythm  by  selecting 
a  given  nimiber  of  time-beats,  we  must  never  forget  that 
rhythm  is  the  inner  impulse  of  verse,  its  heart-throb,  as  it 
were,  and  that  it  should  therefore  be  approached  from  the 
inside  and  not  from  the  outside.  The  stronger  this  inner 
impulse  the  more  vigorous  and  spirited  will  be  the  verse. 
For  instance,  take  the  following: 

4.  Unusual  Rhythm  Rhymed 

Half  a  league,  half  a  league. 
Half  a  league  onward. 
Into  the  Valley  of  Death 
Rode  the  six  hundred. 
— Tennyson,  The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 


64  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Tennyson  said  that  this  rhythm  was  suggested  by  the 
sound  of  a  troop  of  galloping  horse,  and  we  naturally  feel 
that  movement  to  be  the  inner  impulse,  which,  working 
in  the  poet's  mind,  determined  the  form  of  his  poem;  and 
the  reaction  of  the  poem  on  our  minds  reproduces  that 
original  impulse  so  perfectly  that  we  hear  the  sound  of  the 
galloping  troopers.  Imitation  of  natural  sounds  and 
movements,  and  even  of  those  that  are  mechanical,  will 
reward  careful  study  with  suggestions  of  new  rhythms. 

'  c  ' 

There  was  never  a  priest  to  pray, 

t  r  > 

There  was  never  a  hand  to  toll 

ft  / 

When  they  made  me  guard  of  the  bay, 

/  »  / 

And  moored  me  over  the  shoal. 

I  rock,  I  reel,  and  I  roll — 
/  >  I 

My  four  great  hammers  ply — 

Could  I  speak  or  be  still  at  the  Church's  will? 

C Shoal!   'Ware  shoal!")    Not  I! 

— Kipling,  Th^  Bell  Buoy. 

The  inner  impulse  of  this  rhythm  is  the  surging  up  and 
down  of  the  buoy,  and  it  is  emphasized  by  the  recurrent 
refrain  "Shoal!   'Ware  Shoal!" 

Kipling  has  a  wonderful  feeling  for  rhythm  and  may  be 
profitably  studied  in  this  connection.  Notice  especially 
"Danny  Deever,"  "Mandalay,"  and  "The  Ballad  of 
East  and  West." 


RHYTHM  65 

/  /  ■  /  /  r 

For    they're    done    with    Danny   Deever,  you   can  'ear 

the  quickstep  play, 

ft  II  II 

The    regiment's   in    column,    an'    they're    marchin'    us 

away; 

II  It  I 

Ho!    the  young   recruits   are    shakin',  an    they'll    want 

their  beer  today, 
/  III  I 

After  hangin'  Danny  Deever  in  the  mornin'. 

— Kipling,  Danny  Deever. 

In  this  selection  we  hear  the  sound  of  the  regimental 
band  and  our  feet  almost  instinctively  keep  time  to  it. 

/  I  I  I  I  t 

By    the    old    Moulmein    Pagoda,  looking    eastward    to 
I 
the  sea, 

r  I  I  I  I  ) 

There's   a  Burma  girl  a-settin',  an'  I  know  she  thinks 


o   me; 

III  I  II 

For  the  wind  is  in  the  palm-trees,  an'  the   temple-bells 

they  say: 

I  t  I  I 

"Come  you  back,  you   British  soldier;   come  you   back 

to  Mandalay!" 


Come  you  back  to  Mandalay, 

III 
Where  the  old  Flotilla  lay: 

I  I  I  I  I 

Can't  you  hear  their   paddles    chunkin'  from    Rangoon 

to  Mandalay? 


66  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

On  the  road  to  Mandalay, 
f         /  t 

Where  the  flyin'-fishes  play, 

/  t  t  t  I 

An'   the  dawn   comes    up    like    thunder    outer    China 

'crost  the  Bay! 

— Kipling,  Mandalay. 

Though  we  may  never  have  heard  temple  bells,  we 
recognize  their  rhythm  in  the  foregoing  refrain. 

lit  I 

They  have  ridden  the  low  moon  out  of  the  sky,  their 
t  It 

hoofs  drum  up  the  dawn, 

II  II  I 

The  dun  he  went  like  a   wounded   bull,   but   the   mare 
I  I 

Hke  a  new-roused  fawn. 

II  II  II 

The  dun  he  fell  at  a  water-course  —  in  a  woeful  heap 

fell  he, 

I  I  >  I  I 

And  Kamal  has  turned  the  red  mare  back,  and  pulled 

the  rider  free. 

— Kipling,  Ballad  of  East  and  West. 

These  lines  convey  not  only  the  romantic  atmosphere 
of  the  race,  but  its  killing  speed;  and  the  rhythm  of  the 
first  half  of  the  second  Hne  suggests  even  the  faltering  gait 
of  the  spent  horse. 

So  essential  is  this  inner  impulse  that  it  may  even 
triumph  over  bad  workmanship  —  a  good  rhythm  will 
sometimes  carry  an  inferior  poem.  If,  then,  rhythm  be  so 
important,  the  would-be  versifier  should  cultivate  a  sense 


RHYTHM  67 

of  it.  How  may  this  be  done?  By  noting  the  beat  of  any 
recurrent  sound  —  the  tick  of  a  grandfather's  clock,  the 
beat  of  his  own  pulse,  the  throb  of  a  steamer's  engine.  He 
should  learn  to  feel  the  rhythm  that  goes  with  forward 
motion,  the  steady  stride  of  a  long  tramp,  the  fall  of  hoofs 
in  trot  or  gallop  of  a  good  horse  under  him,  the  thrust  of 
arms  and  legs  in  swimming,  the  swing  of  the  body  in 
rowing.  Not  everyone  can  swim  or  ride,  but  nearly 
everyone  can  walk,  and  many  good  poets  have  been  good 
walkers  and  have  delighted  in  tramping  out  their  measures. 
Keats  did  some  of  his  best  work  after  a  walking-trip  in 
Scotland;  Tennyson  kept  pencil  and  paper  in  various 
nooks  and  crannies  which  he  visited  on  his  daily  tramps; 
and  Bayard  Taylor's  foot-journeys  abroad  brought  him 
to  a  higher  skill  in  both  prose  and  verse. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

^  I.  Does  pleasing  rhythm  seem  to  you  to  be  more  im- 
portant in  poetry  than  exact  regularity  of  accent? 

2.  What  objection  is  there  to  the  constant  use  of  an 
exact  measure,  free  from  "grace  notes?" 

*^  3.  Having  the  thought  for  a  poem,  would  you  delib- 
erately select  a  meter  so  as  to  express  it,  or  would  you 
write  some  lines  in  the  form  that  seemed  most  natural,  and 
then  make  the  later  lines  conform  to  them? 

4.  Does  the  movement  of  "Mandalay"  appear  to  you 
to  be  slower  than  that  of  "Danny  Deever?"  If  so,  con- 
sidering the  equal  quantity,  how  do  you  account  for  the 
difference? 


68  THE    ART    OF    VERSIFICATION 

5.  Select  passages  from  the  poets  which  illustrate  any 
three  of  the  following:  (a)  galloping,  (b)  flowing  water, 
(c)  rough  movement,  (d)  warlike  action,  (e)  nobility  of 
movement,  (/")  falling  water,  (g)  sea  waves,  (h)  the  calm  of 
night,  (i)  any  other  idea  you  have  observed  particularly 
well  expressed  by  rhythm. 

6.  Criticise  unfavorably  any  poem  for  its  imperfect 
rhythm.    Be  brief  and  specific. 

7.  Criticise  another  poem  favorably. 

8.  Reread  page  62,  then  see  if  an  application  may  be 
found  on  page  52. 

j^  9.  Write  two  separate  stanzas  whose  rhythm  will  illus- 
trate any  two  of  the  ideas  indicated  in  question  5.  At  this 
stage  of  your  work,  open  imitation  will  help  you. 

10.  Write  a  stanza  in  imitation  of  *'The  Charge  of  the 
Light  Brigade." 

11.  Write  a  stanza  in  imitation  of  "Mandalay." 


CHAPTER  VII 

RHYME 

What'er  you  write  of,  pleasant  or  sublime, 
Always  let  sense  accompany  your  rime; 
Falsely  they  seem  each  other  to  oppose, — 
Rime  must  be  made  with  reason's  law  to  close; 
And  when  to  conquer  her  you  band  your  force, 
The  mind  will  triumph  in  the  noble  course; 
To  reason's  yoke  she  quickly  will  incline. 
Which,  far  from  hurting,  renders  her  divine; 
But  if  neglected,  will  as  easily  stray. 
And  master  reason,  which  she  should  obey. 

— Nicolas  Boileau,  L'Art  Poetique. 

English  poetry,  in  common  with  that  of  all  modern 
languages,  is  usually  rhymed.  The  unrhymed  lyric — of 
which  more  later — is  an  exceptional  form,  while  blank 
verse  is  sufficiently  individual  to  stand  out  from  the 
common  custom.  To  it  an  entire  chapter  of  this  treatise 
has  been  devoted. 

I.  Rhyme  Defined 

Rhyme  is  the  recurrence  of  closely  similar  sounds  at  the 
ends  of  corresponding  lines  of  poetry,  or  in  certain  definite 
places  within  the  lines.  In  somewhat  more  technical  lan- 
guage, rhyme,  as  Professor  Matthews  observes  in  "A 
Study  of  Versification,"  is  made  by  using  the  same  vowel- 
soimds  in  the  last  long,  or  accented,  syllable  and  in  all  the 


7©  THE  ART   OF  VERSIFICATION 

syllables  that  follow  it,  "preceded  by  a  difference  in  the 
consonant-sound  that  comes  before  this  final  long  vowel." 
This  law  will  be  made  clearer  by  illustration:  plant  and 
slant  rhyme  properly,  as  do  planted  and  slanted,  and  plant- 
ing and  slanting. 

2.  Imperfect  Rhymes 

Plant  and  implant  are  not  regarded  as  perfect  rhymes, 
for  the  consonant  soimds  which  precede  the  accented 
vowel-sound  are  identical  and  their  use  would  not  only 
betoken  a  poverty  of  invention  but  produce  a  feeble  effect 
upon  the  ear.  Some  genuine  poets  have  allowed  them- 
selves this  license — Byron  rhymes  philanthropic  with  mis- 
anthropic, and  Lowell  couples  mentor  with  tormentor,  but 
it  is  better  to  follow  the  strict  law. 

For  the  foregoing  reasons,  words  of  similar  sound  but  of 
different  meaning,  as  sight  and  site,  are  not  considered 
perfect  rhymes  in  English  poetry,  although  they  are 
allowed  and  even  much  used  in  French  verse. 

The  further  rule  that  the  final  accented  syllables  and  not 
merely  the  final  syllables  must  rhyme  also  finds  distin- 
guished violators,  but  it  is  almost  universally  recognized 
that  naming  and  charming  do  not  rhyme — the  accented 
vowels  are  identical,  but  they  are  not  identical  vowel- 
sounds,  such  as  we  have  in  charming  smd  harming,  which  are 
therefore  perfect  rhymes.  It  should  be  remarked  that 
these  two  words  may  appear  to  break  the  law  requiring 
a  different  consonant-sound  preceding  the  last  accented 
vowel-sound,  but  h  is  an  aspirate  which  breathes  into  the 


RHYME  71 

a  sound  in  harming,  while  ch  gives  the  true  consonant- 
sound.  Sometimes  the  law  requiring  that  rhymes  be  based 
on  the  last  accented  syllables  is  violated  by  coupling  in 
rhyme  such  words  as  rainbow  and  below.  In  these  words 
the  accents  do  not  fall  on  the  syllables  of  similar  soimd  and 
therefore  they  do  not  rhyme. 

It  may  also  be  said  in  passing  that  not  merely  the  final 
accented  syllables  but — if  there  be  any — also  all  succeeding 
syllables  of  rhymed  words  must  be  of  similar  sound  in 
order  to  effect  a  perfect  rhyme.  Thus,  not  only  the  ac- 
cented syllables  of  indelicate  and  indelible  rhyme,  but  the 
first  three  syllables  are  identical,  yet  the  words  do  not 
approach  a  true  rhyme  because  their  final  syllables  vary 
in  sound.  But  untellable  and  indelible  do  rhyme,  per- 
fectly; though  the  a  and  i  are  not  identical  vowels,  their 
sounds  in  combination — tellable,  delible — are  sufiiciently 
close  to  rhyme  well.  A  trained  ear  is  the  best  safeguard 
against  the  use  of  such  false  rhymes  as  clime,  shrine,  or 
blundered,  hundred — though  the  latter  pair  was  used  by 
Tennyson  in  "The  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade" — not  by 
mistake,  of  course,  but  doubtless  because  colloquially 
many  do  say  hunderd  and  because  there  is  no  perfect 
rhyme  for  hundred,  and  he  could  not  discard  the  word. 
The  fact  that  great  poets  have  been  guilty  of  atrocious 
rhymes — and  the  instances  are  many — ought  not  to  be 
quoted  as  an  excuse  for  others. 

Do  not  be  misled  by  the  r  sound.  Dawn  and  morn  do 
not  rhyme,  nor  do  broad  and  lord,  or  Eva  and  deceiver. 

Certain  rhymes  which  once  were  legitimate  can  no 
longer  be  so  considered.    In  Shakespeare's  day,  conceit  and 


72  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

weight  rhymed  and  in  the  i8th  century,  joy  rhymed  with 
high.  Owing  to  changes  in  pronunciation  these  are  no  longer 
admissible.  Wind,  however,  is  a  word  which  in  poetry 
keeps  its  old  pronimciation;  it  is  usually  rhymed  on  the 
sound  of  kind  and  not  on  that  of  sinned. 


J.  Kinds  of  Rhyme 

As  might  be  inferred  from  the  foregoing  pages,  there  are 
various  kinds  of  rhyme: 

Masculine,  or  single,  rhyme  consists  of  a  rhyme  on  one 
syllable  only,  as  day,  pray. 

Feminine,  or  double,  rhyme  is  a  rhyme  on  two  syllables,  as 
token,  spoken;  so  also  unbroken,  because  the  last  two  sylla- 
bles rhyme  in  soimd  with  token  and  are  accented  similarly, 
without  any  reference  to  the  first  syllable  un. 

Triple  rhyme  is  a  rhyme  on  three  syllables,  as  scornfully, 
mournfully. 

Masculine  rhyme  gives  force,  feminine  usually  gives 
lightness  and  grace,  while  triple  is  seldom  employed  except 
in  humorous  verse,  although  Hood  uses  it  in  one  of  his 
serious  poems : 

The  Bridge  of  Sighs 

One  more  unfortunate, 
Weary  of  breath. 
Rashly  importunate. 
Gone  to  her  death! 


RHYME  73 

Take  her  up  tenderly, 
Lift  her  with  care ! 
Fashioned  so  slenderly, 
Young,  and  so  fair! 

4.  Location  of  Rhymes 

By  rhyme  we  usually  mean  end-rhyme,  or  the  agreement 
in  sound  of  the  final  words  of  the  lines.  End- rhyme  was 
adopted  in  England  after  the  Norman  conquest  and  was 
imitated  from  the  rhyming  meters  of  the  widely  used 
Latin  hymns.  The  simplest  form  of  Latin  hymn  meter 
became  the  ordinary  English  ballad  measure,  which  will 
be  treated  under  The  Ballad.  The  Normans  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  II  introduced  the  lyric  poetry  of  Provence  and 
Aquaitaine  into  England,  and  although  the  people  re- 
mained satisfied  with  simple  ballad  measure,  the  court 
and  clerkly  poets  were  much  influenced  by  these  new 
meters.  In  the  13th  century  they  rhymed  with  grace  and 
facility,  as  is  shown  by  a  few  scraps  of  song  which  have 
come  down  to  us,  and  by  the  beginning  of  the  14th  cen- 
tury more  complicated  rhyme-schemes  were  used  in  Eng- 
land than  were  after  attempted  until  we  reach  the  recent 
imitations  of  French  artificial  meters,  which  also  require 
a  separate  and  later  treatment. 

The  following  example  of  graceful  rhyme  is  the  first 
stanza  of  a  love  lyric  from  one  of  the  Harleian  manuscripts. 
It  is  written  in  the  Southern  Saxon  dialect  and  was  evi- 
dently intended  to  be  sung,  for  it  has  a  refrain.  In  fact  it 
almost  sings  itself. 


74  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

B3rtuene  Mersh  ant  Averil, 

When  spray  beginneth  to  springe, 
The  lutel  foul  hath  hire  wyl 
On  hyre  lud  to  S3aige. 

Ich  libbe  in  love-longinge 

For  symlokest  of  alle  thinge; 

He  may  me  bUsse  bringe; 
Icham  in  hire  baundoun. 

An  hendy  hap  ichabbe  yhent; 

Ichot  from  hevene  it  is  me  sent; 

From  alle  wymmen  mi  love  is  lent 
Ant  lyht  on  Alysoun, 

In  English  poetry  we  are  not  confined  to  end-rhymes, 
but  occasionally  use  other  forms,  such  as  beginning-rhyme, 
wherein  the  first  syllable  of  each  rhyming  line  rhymes. 
Although  some  authors  treat  beginning-rhyme  as  if  it  were 
the  same  as  alliteration,  there  is  really  a  decided  differ- 
ence— a  mere  examination  of  the  two  forms  should  show 
this.    (See  chapter  on  Alliteration  and  Assonance.) 

The  following  specimen  of  beginning-rhyme  is  from 
Hood's  "The  Bridge  of  Sighs."  Observe  that  end-rhyme 
is  also  used. 

Mad  from  life's  history, 
Glad  to  death's  mystery. 

So  unusual  a  rhyme-scheme  should  be  used  charily  for 
it  is  really  only  ornamental,  and,  indeed,  it  has  been  seldom 
adopted  by  poets  of  distinction. 

Not   content   with   end-rhyme   and   beginning-rhyme. 


RHYME  75 

poets  occasionally  use  internal-rhyme,  generally  using  end- 
rhyme  also.  Some  of  the  rhyme-schemes  of  the  old  Latin 
hymn  writers,  from  which  our  English  poets  often  took 
their  patterns,  were  very  complicated;  for  instance,  that 
of  "Jerusalem  the  Golden,"  by  the  French  monk,  Bernard 
of  Cluny,  who  was  Bernard  de  Morlas.  The  original, 
which  he  believed  to  be  the  direct  result  of  inspiration, 
contains  forty-three  stanzas  of  unequal  length,  and  is 
entitled  "The  Celestial  Country."  Another  Latin  poem 
was  written  in  1145  by  the  same  Bernard.  It  contains 
three  thousand  lines  and  furnishes  the  most  remarkable 
examples  of  both  internal-  and  end-rhyme  extant. 

De  Contemptu  Mundi 
Hora  novissima,   tempora  pessima  sunt,  vigilemus 
Ecce  minaciter  imminet  arbiter  ille  supremus. 
Imminet,  imminet  et  mala  terminet,  aequa  coronet, 
Recta  remuneret,  anxia  liberet,  aethera  donet, 
Auferat  aspera  duraque  pondera  mentes  onustae, 
Sobria  muniat,  improba  pimiat,  utraque  juste. 

A  good  example  of  internal-rhyme  is  Tennyson's  "Sweet 
and  Low,"  and  a  still  finer  one  in  the  following  lyric  from 
"The  Princess. "    No  title  is  given  by  the  poet  himself. 

Bugle 

The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls 

And  snowy  summits  old  in  story: 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 
And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory. 
Blow,  bugle,  blow,  set  the  wild  echoes  flying. 
Blow,  bugle;  answer,  echoes,  dying,  dying,  dying. 


76  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Poe  uses  three-fold  internal-rhyme  in  "The  Raven:" 

But  the  silence  was  unbroken,  and  the  stillness  gave  no 

token, 
And  the  only  word  there  spoken  was  the  whispered  word 

"Lenore." 

The  same  device  is  used  with  good  effect  in  Alfred  Per- 
cival  Graves'  "Father  O'Flynn:" 

Powerfullest  preacher  and  tindherest  teacher. 
And  kindliest  creature  in  old  Donegal. " 

Too  plentiful  a  use  of  double-rhyme  is  apt  to  impair  the 
dignity  of  a  poem,  which  may  thus  degenerate  into  jig- 
time.    The  stateliest  measures  use  single-rhyme. 

5.  Unusual  Rhyme-Schemes 

Unusual  rhymes  may  sometimes  be  employed  to  add 
emphasis  or  to  catch  the  attention.  Browning  delighted 
in  fantastic  rhymes.  His  reason  may  perhaps  be  found  in 
this  stanza: 

Grand,  rough  old  Martin  Luther 
Bloomed  fables,  flowers  on  furze, 
The  better,  the  uncouther; 
Do  roses  stick  like  burrs? 

Thomas  Love  Peacock  was  one  of  the  most  dexterous 
of  English  rhymesters.  The  following  opening  stanza  of 
one  of  his  poems  goes  off  like  the  clatter  of  musketry: 


RHYME  77 

War-Song  of  Dinas  Vawr 

The  mountain  sheep  are  sweeter 
But  the  valley  sheep  are  fatter; 
We  therefore  deemed  it  meeter 
To  carry  off  the  latter. 
We  made  an  expedition, 
We  met  an  host  and  quell'd  it, 
We  forced  a  strong  position 
And  kill'd  the  men  who  held  it. 

We  find  many  clever  examples  of  unusual  rhymes  in 
humorous  and  satirical  verse.  Barham's  "The  Ingoldsby 
Legends"  is  a  mine  of  such  ingenious  combinations;  for 
instance: 

Should  it  even  set  fire  to  the  castle  and  bum  it,  you're 
Amply  insured  both  for  buildings  and  furniture. 

Horace  and  James  Smith's  "Rejected  Addresses"  con- 
tain other  examples,  such  as  chimney  and  slim  knee,  which 
they  used  because  the  former  word  was  said  to  have  no 
rhyme  in  EngHsh.  W.  S.  Gilbert's  "Bab  Ballads"  as  well 
as  his  opera  librettos  contain  many  effective  rhymes.  As 
an  example  of  a  "patter  song,"  take  this  from  "The 
Sorcerer:" 

0  what  is  the  matter? 
O  what  is  the  clatter? 
He's  glowering  at  her 
And  threatens  a  blow! 


78  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

O  why  does  he  batter 
The  girl  he  did  flatter, 
And  why  does  the  latter 
Recoil  from  him  so? 


6.  Special  Cautions 

Rhyming  words  should  not  be  too  widely  separated, 
although  occasionally  a  poet  carries  a  rhyme  from  one 
stanza  to  another,  as  Keats  does  in  the  following: 

In  a  Drear-Nighted  December 

In  a  drear-nighted  December, 
Too  happy,  happy  Tree, 
Thy  branches  ne'er  remember 
Their  green  felicity: 
The  north  wind  cannot  undo  them 
With  a  sleety  whistle  through  them, 
Nor  frozen  thawings  glue  them 
From  budding  at  the  prime. 

In  a  drear-nighted  December 
Too  happy,  happy  Brook, 
Thy  bubblings  ne'er  remember 
Apollo's  summer  look; 
But  with  a  sweet  forgetting 
They  stay  their  crystal  fretting, 
Never,  never  petting 
About  the  frozen  time. 


RHYME  79 

The  troubadours  wrote  stanzas  consisting  entirely  of 
unrhymed  lines,  to  which  rhymes  were  found  in  the  suc- 
ceeding stanzas  of  the  same  poem,  but  our  ears  are  not  so 
highly  educated,  and  decline  to  carry  many  sounds  so  far. 
If  you  employ  rhyme  at  all,  study  to  do  it  properly. 
Never  be  content  to  leave  an  imrhymed  line  unless  your 
meter  requires  it,  as  in  simple  English  ballad  meter,  or  the 
quatrains  (four-line  stanzas)  of  Omar  Khayyam. 

In  writing  stanzas  with  alternate  rhymes,  do  not  use  the 
same  vowel-sound  in  pairs  of  adjoining  rhymes,— for  in- 
stance: 

hope 

stone 

grope 

alone 

is  a  faulty  rhyme-grouping  because  the  rhymes  are  not 
identical,  yet  they  are  too  similar  to  be  well  contrasted. 
It  is  almost  as  faulty  to  use  as  adjoining  words  those  of 
generally  similar  sounds,  as: 

hid 

led 

rid 

said 

In  rhyming  it  is  permissible  to  use  your  best  and  most 
effective  word  last,  but  do  not  be  satisfied  with  an  imper- 
fect rhyme.  Always  seek  a  perfect  one  that  expresses  your 
meaning.  Remember,  Dante  said  that  words  had  never 
made  him  say  what  he  did  not  want  to  say,  but  that  he  had 
often  made  them  say  what  they  did  not  want  to  say.    Re- 


8o  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

vert  to  Boileau's  counsel,  which  is  prefixed  to  this  chapter, 
and  let  all  the  scheme  and  variety  of  your  rhymes  be 
governed  by  your  theme  and  your  purpose.  That  which 
would  be  quite  tolerable  in  nonsense  verse  would  not  serve 
for  a  dignified  poem. 

ExERasES  FOR  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

>C   I.  Which  of  the  following  groups  are  perfect  rh3rmes: 

cold,  doled;  might,  mite;  due,  two;  knighthood,  right  would; 

claim,  lain;  twined,  wind;  his  train,  his  strain;  scruple,  pupil. 

w      2.  Criticise  any  that  may  be  imperfect,  giving  your 

reasons. 

3.  Would  you  feel  free  to  use  an  imperfect  rhyme  if  it 
appears  in  poetic  masterpieces? 
X   4-  In  what  classes  of  poetry  are  internal-rhymes  es- 
pecially appropriate? 

5.  If  you  must  keep  in  a  poem  a  word  requiring  a  rhyme, 
and  the  only  rhyming  word  is  unpoetic,  or  conveys  not 
quite  the  desired  shade  of  meaning,  which  rhyming  word 
should  precede  the  other? 

6.  In  selecting  rhymes  for  a  poem,  should  one  always 
strive  for  euphony? 

^     7.  When  a  rhyme  does  not  readily  suggest  itself,  how 
do  you  proceed  to  find  the  suitable  word? 

8.  Write  a  stanza,  rhyming  words  of  several  syllables. 

9.  Write  another  containing  one  or  more  internal 
rhymes  in  every  line. 

10.  Write  others  in  imitation  of  the  stanza  (a)  on  pages 
72  and  73 ;  (b)  on  page  66 ;  (c)  on  page  77 ;  (d)  on  page  42. 


RHYME  51 

11.  From  poems  in  this  volume,  make  a  list  of  rhymed 
words  which  are  no  longer  perfect  on  account  of  changing 
pronunciation. 

12.  Are  all  the  rhymes  in  the  following  stanza  suited  to 
serious  poetry?    Why,  or  why  not? 


Kitty 

Blue  eyes  so  changeable. 

Hair  so  arrangeable, 
Twice  is  she  never  the  same, 

Will  so  capricious  is. 

Form  so  delicious  is, 
Pulses  of  mine  are  aflame. 

Doric  simplicities, 

Attic  felicities, 
In  her  trim  figure  unite. 

Sweetly  they  steal  to  me, 

Clearly  reveal  to  me 
How  disconcerting  my  plight. 

Though  I  may  sing  to  her, 
What  could  I  bring  to  her? 

Only  a  heart  in  distress, 
Futile  my  verse  it  is, 
Empty  my  purse  it  is, 

Bondage,  not  bonds,  I  possess. 


82  THE  ART   OF  VERSIPICATION 

Art  is  so  tenuous, 

Life  is  so  strenuous, 
Love  such  an  exquisite  trance. 

Shall  I  beware  of  her? 

Or  shall  I  dare  for  her, 
Like  the  old  knights  of  romance? 
— Edward  J.  Wheeler,  in  the  International. 

13.  Make  a  scrap-book  or  note-book  collection  of  every 
type  of  rhyme  you  can  gather. 

14.  Write  a  brief  discussion  of  the  suitability  of  some  of 
these  rhymes  from  the  standpoint  of  the  entire  poem  and 
of  the  individual  passage. 

15.  Practise  altering  the  rhyme  words  in  well-known 
poems,  then  carefully  study  the  effect  on  the  thought, 
beauty,  and  general  poetic  qualities  of  the  poem. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ASSONANCE   AND   ALLITERATION 

All  alliteration  for  the  sake  of  alliteration  is  trifling. 

— Sidney  Lanier,  The  Science  of  English  Verse. 

I.  Assonance 

The  literal  meaning  of  the  word  assonance  conveys  a 
suggestion  of  its  technical  signification — sound  placed  \\ath 
sound.  It  is  vowel-rhyme,  and  in  versification  is  used  now 
and  then  as  a  substitute  for  regular-rhyme. 

Assonance  consists  in  the  use  of  the  same  vowel-sound 
in  the  assonant  words — combined,  however,  with  non- 
assonant  consonants.  Theoretically,  this  method  of 
sound-unity  requires  the  use  of  the  same  vowels  in  the 
assonant  words  from  each  last  accented  vowel  to  the  end 
of  the  word,  penitent,  merited,  furnishing  an  unusually 
good  example  because  all  the  vowels  are  the  same — e,  i,  e— 
and  only  one  consonant  repeated — t.  In  practice,  however, 
it  is  usually  only  the  accented  vowels  which  are  identical, 
as  madden,  naiad. 

Assonance  was  the  rhyme-system  of  some  of  the  old 
Romance  languages,  and  "Le  Chanson  de  Roland"  is  in 
itself  a  famous  example.  This  rhyme-scheme  was  a  char- 
acteristic of  the  old  Spanish  ballads,  and  is  still  used  in 
Spanish  poetry. 


84  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

George  Eliot  successfully  imitated  their  usage  in  the 
following  song  from  "The  Spanish  Gypsy:" 

Maiden,  crowned  with  glossy  blackness, 
Lithe  as  panther  forest-roaming. 
Long-armed  naiad,  when  she  dances, 
On  a  stream  of  ether  floating — 
Bright  O  bright  Fedalma! 

Assonance  was  also  a  feature  of  Celtic  poetry,  and  sur- 
vives as  a  spontaneous  quality  in  some  present-day  Irish 
poems.  For  example,  we  find  it  freely  used  in  Milliken's 
"The  Groves  of  Blarney." 

"The  groves  of  Blarney,  they  look  so  charming, "  etc. 

It  is  used  by  Francis  Mahoney  in  "The  Bells  of  Shan- 
don:" 

I've  heard  bells  tolling 
Old  Adrian's  Mole  in, 
Their  thunder  rolling 
From  the  Vatican — 
And  cymbals  glorious 
Swinging  uproarious 
In  the  gorgeous  turrets 
Of  N6tre  Dame. 

Here  tolling  and  Mole  in,  can  and  Dame,  are  not  intended 
as  imperfect  rhymes  but  as  assonance.  It  is  also  used  in 
"The  Town  of  Passage"  by  the  same  author: 


ASSONANCE   AND  ALLITERATION  85 

The  town  of  Passage 
Is  both  large  and  spacious 
And  situated 
Upon  the  say. 

Examples  of  it  may  be  foimd  in  many  great  poets. 
Lowell  says  that  "Homer,  like  Dante  and  Shakespeare, 
like  all  who  really  command  language,  seems  fond  of 
pla3dng  with  assonances."  For  the  modem  rhymster, 
its  sparing  use  may  add  color  and  variety  to  his  verse  if 
employed  within  the  line,  but  it  had  best  be  avoided  in 
terminal  words  lest  it  be  mistaken  for  imperfect  end-rhyme. 

2.  Alliteration 

Alliteration  is  another  ancient  system  of  verse-making 
which  survives  in  English  poetry  merely  as  an  ornament. 
It  is  the  repetition  of  the  same  letter  or  sound  at  the  begin- 
ning of  two  or  more  words  or  syllables  in  close  or  imme- 
diate succession. 

In  a  5omer  5eson  when  soiV  was  the  5onne, 
I  ^hope  me  in  ^hroudes  as  I  a  ^hepe  were. 
— William  Langland,  The  Vision  Concerning  Piers  the 
Plowman. 

Anglo-Saxon,  Icelandic,  and  Middle-English  poems  are 
practically  all  alliterative — in  fact,  considered  as  verse, 
their  distinguishing  characteristic  is  this  type  of  sound- 
imity.  In  modern  times,  Wagner  employed  alliteration 
for  his  librettos  instead  of  using  end-rhymes,  doubtless  in 


86  THE   ART   or   VERSIFICATON 

most  instances  to  convey  the  early  Germanic  feeling  as 
well  as  for  purposes  of  vocalization.  The  composer 
maintained  that,  owing  to  the  singer's  need  of  dwelling  on 
the  vowel-sound,  the  terminal  consonant  and  rhyme  were 
lost,  whereas  the  initial  consonant  could  not  be  lost.  He 
was  probably  also  influenced  by  the  fact  that  the  old 
Teutonic  poems  from  which  he  drew  his  material  were  all 
written  in  alliteration,  and  he  therefore  found  the  form 
ready-made  to  his  hand. 

Shakespeare  used  the  scheme  wherever  it  would  beautify 
his  verse. 

To  turn  and  M;ind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 

And  witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship. 

— Henry  IV. 

And  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound 
I'll  </rown  my  book. 

— The  Tempest. 

He  also  takes  occasion  in  "Love's  Labor's  Lost"  to 
ridicule  the  abuse  of  alliteration,  where  Holofernes,  the 
schoolmaster,  says,  "I  will  something  afifect  the  letter; 
for  it  argues  facility,"  and  then  he  reads  a  poem  begin- 
ning: 

The   preyful    princess    pierced    and   prick't    a   pretty 
pleasing  pricket, 

which  reminds  us  of  the  nursery  example, 

Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers. 


ASSONANCE   AND   ALLITERATION  87 

Thus  evidently,  alliteration  is  the  easiest  of  all  verse 
ornaments,  wherefore  the  amateur  poet  should  be  on  his 
guard  against  its  excessive  use.  Too  much  of  it  gives  a 
slippery  quality  to  the  verse — the  ear  is  pleased,  but 
finally  teased,  by  the  recurring  sound,  and  the  mind  lets 
the  idea  slide  by  inattentively.  As  Browning  asks,  "Do 
roses  stick  like  burrs?" 

But  alliteration  also  has  its  merits,  and  Swinburne,  a 
skillful  poet,  has  used  the  device  with  beautiful  effect,  as: 

.Before  the  beginning  of  years. 
There  came  to  the  waking  of  man. 

Sometimes,  however,  he  adopts  it  less  happily: 

The  /ilies  and  languors  of  t^irtue 
The  roses  and  raptures  of  ziice. 

Here,  we  feel  that  the  words  were  chosen  mainly  for  the 
sake  of  their  alliterative  quality,  and  the  mind  uncon- 
sciously resents  the  fact;  and  really  this  charge  of  arti- 
ficiality is  the  gravest  reason  against  its  f request  use.  In 
other  words,  moderate  alliteration  intensifies  the  meaning, 
as  in  Kipling's  "The  Ballad  of  East  and  West:" 

"You  have  taken  the  one/rom  a/oe,"  said  he, 
"Will  you  take  the  mate/rom  a/riend?" 

Upon  the  other  hand,  excessive  alliteration  weakens  the 
meaning,  as  in  the  foregoing  second  Swinburne  example, 
and  gives  a  feeling  of  triviality — a  sense  of  mere  word 
jugglery. 


88  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

The  repetition  of  the  same  idea,  or  the  same  word  or 
phrase,  is  a  legitimate  and  often  a  more  efifective  kind  of 
verse-ornament  than  alliteration,  and  one  much  in  use 
among  primitive  peoples.  Note  this  translation  of  an  old 
Russian  song  on  the  death  of  Ivan  the  Terrible: 

It  happened  to  us 

In  Holy  Russia, 

In  stone-built  Moscow 

In  the  golden  Kremlin, 

They  beat  upon  the  great  bell. 

Some  further  reference  to  this  subject  will  be  found 
under  the  treatment  of  The  Ballad. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  How  does  assonance  differ  from  imperfect  rhyme? 

2.  Give  three  original  examples  of  assonance,  using 
words  of  different  vowel  sounds. 

3.  Write  a  verse  using  as  many  assonant  words  as  seems 
desirable. 

4.  Alter  several  of  your  former  verses  by  the  introduc- 
tion of  assonant  words. 

5.  Discuss  briefly  the  effect  of  too  many  assonant  words 
in  one  poem. 

6.  What  effect  has  alliteration  upon  a  line,  apart  from 
its  sound? 

7.  Turn  a  passage]of  figurative  prose  into  simple  allitera- 
tive verse. 


ASSONANCE   AND   ALLITERATION  89 

^  8.  Why  should  a  poet  guard  against  the  too  frequent 
use  of  alliteration? 
yC,    g.  Try  to  find  examples  (a)  of  its  good  use;    (b)  of  its 
imperfect  use. 

10.  (a)  Write  a  quatrain  containing  as  many  alliterative 
words  as  possible,  (b)  Correct  it  by  taking  out  all  allitera- 
tive words,  except  those  that  are  so  well  used  that  a  change 
would  mar  the  verse. 

1 1 .  Do  the  same  for  a  second  stanza. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ONOMATOPCEIA 

SOUND  AND  MOVEMENT 

True  ease  in  writing  comes  from  art,  not  chance, 

As  those  move  easiest  who  have  learned  to  dance. 

'Tis  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offence, 

The  sound  must  seem  an  echo  of  the  sense. 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows. 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows; 

But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar; 

When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  might  to  throw, 

The  line,  too,  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow. 

Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain. 

Flies  o'er  the  unbending  com,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

— Alexander  Pope,  Essay  on  Criticism. 

I.  Sound 


Onomatopoeia  is  the  use  of  words  expressive  of  natural 
sounds — it  is  fitting  the  sound  to  the  meaning.  Primitive 
man  used  imitative  sounds  to  describe  certain  objects. 
The  Indian  name  Minnehaha,  Laughing  Water,  is  a 
familiar  illustration.  The  original  roots  of  some  of  our 
common  words  arose  in  the  effort  of  our  remote  ancestors 
to  describe  sound  and  motion.  The  word  horse,  for  in- 
stance is  hrse,  or  the  sound  made  by  a  swiftly  passing 
animal. 


ONOMATOPCEIA — SOUND   AND  MOVEMENT  9 1 

In  English  we  have  many  words  descriptive  simply  of 
soimd,  such  as  buzz,  hiss,  murmur,  and  clang.  We  have 
other  words  descriptive  merely  of  motion,  such  as  hover 
and  waver.  By  descriptive,  here,  we  mean  that  the  sound 
of  the  word  indicates  the  motion  expressed. 

We  have  still  a  third  class  of  words  descriptive  of  both 
soimd  and  motion,  such  as  tramp,  gallop  and  plunge. 

You  see  what  a  mine  of  rich  materials  such  words  are 
for  the  poet,  and  the  masters  of  language  have  ever  been 
quick  to  delve  for  and  use  them. 

Let  us  now  consider  gallop  as  an  example  of  a  word 
which  describes  both  sound  and  motion.  This  word  does 
not  trot;  it  gives  us  both  the  movement  and  the  thud  of 
the  more  spirited  gait.  Canter  gives  the  same  motion,  but 
without  the  blow  at  the  end. 

Repeat  aloud  the  word  plunge.  Do  you  not  hear  the 
sound  of  the  fall  of  a  heavy  body  in  water,  with  its  partial 
resurge  to  the  surface? 

Study  the  following  line  from  Tennyson: 

The  white,  cold,  heavy-plunging  foam. 

— A  Dream  of  Fair  Women. 

Notice  the  effect  of  the  long  o's  in  this  line.    Why  is  it  such 
an  excellent  description  of  the  ocean? 

Think  of  the  sound  of  a  retreating  wave  on  a  pebbly 
shore  or  shingle,  and  then  compare  it  with  Tennyson's  line : 
The  scream  of  a  maddened  beach  dragged 
down  by  the  waves, 
and  with  this  passage    from  Matthew  Arnold's  "Dover 
Beach:" 


92  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Listen !    you  hear  the  grating  roar 

Of  pebbles  which  the  waves  draw  back,  and  fling, 

At  their  return,  up  the  high  strand. 

Begin  and  cease,  and  then  again  begin. 

With  tremulous  cadence  slow,  and  bring 

The  eternal  note  of  sadness  in. 

And  from  the  same  poem: 

Its  melancholy,  long,  withdrawing  roar 
Retreating. 

One  of  the  most  famous  descriptions  of  the  sea  is 
Homer's  line: 

Be  dakeon  para  thena  poluthoishoio  thalasses. 

He  walked  by  the  shore  of  the  many-sounding  sea. 

We  may  not  imderstand  Greek  but  we  can  hear  the 
sound  of  waves  on  the  beach  in  the  last  two  words. 

Great  poets  have  reproduced  harsh  sounds  as  well  as 
melodious  ones,  as  the  following  lines  illustrate,  particu- 
larly the  scraping  soimd  of  the  words  scrannel,  wretched, 
straw. 

Grate  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw. 

— Milton,  Lycidas. 

On  a  sudden  open  fly 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound 
The  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder. 

— Milton.  Paradise  Lost. 


ONOMATOPCEIA — SOUND  AND  MOVEMENT  93 

Tennyson  is  past-master  in  the  use  of  onomatopoeia. 

Study  his: 

Moan  of  doves  in  immemorial  elms, 
And  murmuring  of  innumerable  bees. 

— The  Princess. 

And  also: 

I  heard  the  ripple  washing  in  the  reeds, 
And  the  wild  water  lapping  on  the  crag. 

— The  Passing  of  Arthur. 

Read  Tennyson's  "Song  of  the  Brook"  for  the  move- 
ment of  flowing  water: 

I  come  from  haunts  of  coot  and  hern, 

I  make  a  sudden  sally, 
And  sparkle  out  among  the  fern, 

To  bicker  down  a  valley. 

The  verse  has  the  sound  of  rippling  water. 

Read  Southey's  once  famous  "Cataract  of  Lodore"  for 
a  description  of  a  waterfall,  though  it  is  less  a  poem  than  a 
collection  of  descriptive  words. 

The  cataract  strong 
Then  plunges  along. 
Striking  and  raging 
As  if  a  war  waging 


94  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Its  caverns  and  rocks  among; 
Rising  and  leaping, 
Sinking  and  creeping, 
Swelling  and  sweeping, 
Showering  and  springing, 
Flying  and  flinging, 
Writhing  and  wringing, 
Eddying  and  whisking. 
Spouting  and  frisking. 
Turning  and  twisting. 
Around  and  around 
With  endless  rebound: 
Smiting  and  fighting, 
A  sight  to  delight  in; 
Confounding,    astounding. 
Dizzying  and  deafening  the  ear  with  its  sound. 

Poe  in  "The  Bells"  pushed  the  principle  of  descriptive 
sound  to  its  extreme  limit. 

Hear  the  loud  alarum  bells — 
Brazen  bells! 
What  a  tale  of  terror,  now,  their  turbulency  tells! 

In  the  startled  ear  of  night 

How  they  scream  out  their  affright! 

Too  much  horrified  to  speak. 

They  can  only  shriek,  shriek. 
Out  of  tune, 
In  the  clamorous  appealing  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire. 
In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic  fire 

Leaping  higher,  higher,  higher. 

With  a  desperate  desire. 


ONOMATOPOEIA — SOUND   AND   MOVEMENT  95 

And  a  resolute  endeavor, 

Now — now  to  sit,  or  never, 

By  the  side  of  the  pale-faced  moon. 

O  the  bells,  bells,  bells, 

What  a  tale  their  terror  tells 

Of  despair! 
How  they  clang  and  clash  and  roar! 
What  a  horror  they  outpour 
On  the  bosom  of  the  palpitating  air! 
Yet  the  ear  it  fully  knows, 

By  the  twanging, 

And  the  clanging, 
How  the  danger  ebbs  and  flows; 
Yet  the  ear  distinctly  tells. 

In  the  jangling, 

And  the  wrangling, 

How  the  danger  sinks  and  swells, 

By  the  sinking  or  the  swelling  in  the  anger  of  the  bells — 

Of  the  bells,— 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells. 

Bells,  bells,  bells, — 
In  the  clamor  and  the  clangor  of  the  bells! 

Compare  Poe's  poem  with  "The  Bells  of  Shandon," 
by  Francis  Mahoney: 

With  deep  affection 
And  recollection, 
I  often  think  of 

Those  Shandon  bells, 
Whose  sounds  so  wild  would 
In  the  days  of  childhood, 


96  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Fling  round  my  cradle 

Their  magic  spells. 
On  this  I  ponder, 
Where'er  I  wander, 
And  thus  grow  fonder. 

Sweet  Cork,  of  thee; 
With  thy  bells  of  Shan  don. 
That  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters 

Of  the  river  Lee. 

Another  notable  example  of  sound  descriptive  of  the 
sense  is  Kipling's  "Mandalay, "  with  its  tone-coloring  of 
the  "tinkly  temple-bells:" 

No!  you  won't  'eed  nothin'  else 
But  them  spicy  garlic  smells, 
An'  the  sunshine,  an'  the  palm  trees,  an'  the  tinkly  temple- 
bells. 
On  the  road  to  Mandalay, 
Where  the  flyin'-fishes  play. 
An'  the  dawn  comes  up  like  thunder  outer  China  'crcxst 
the  Bay! 

2.  Movement 

Onomatopoeia  includes  movement  as  well  as  sound. 
Besides  the  onomatopoetic  word,  giving  the  sound  of  a 
thing,  we  may  have  the  onomatopoetic  rhythm,  giving  its 
movement.    The  refrain  of  the  poem  just  quoted,  "  Manda- 


ONOMATOPCEIA — SOUND  AND  MOVEMENT  97 

lay,"  reproduces  not  only  the  sound  but  also  the  rhythm 
of  a  chime  of  bells. 
Tennyson's  lullaby, 

Sweet  and  low,  sweet  and  low. 
Wind  of  the  western  sea, 

gives  us  the  rhythm  of  a  mother  rocking  her  child  to  sleep. 
As  she  was  an  English  mother  and  probably  had  no  rocking 
chair,  she  must  have  swayed  her  body  back  and  forth,  for 
the  swinging  rhythm  is  there. 

Rest,  rest,  on  Mother's  breast, 
Father  will  come  to  thee  soon. 

The  effect  of  Virgil's  well-known  line: 

Quadrupedante  putrem  quatit  solida  ungula  campum, 
(He  shook  the  dusty  earth  with  his  solid  four-footed  hoof) , 

is  gained  by  rhythm  as  well  as  sound,  and  it  is  the  thunder- 
ing hexameter  that  shakes  the  earth  for  us. 

Compare  Browning's  "How  they  Brought  the  good 
News  from  Ghent  to  Aix"  with  Tennyson's  "The  Charge 
of  the  Light  Brigade,"  where  the  dactylic  rhythm  gives 
us  the  movement  of  a  troup  of  galloping  horse. 

Read  the  excellent  poem  by  Caroline  Norton,  "The 
King  of  Denmark's  Ride. "    The  second  stanza  follows : 

Thirty  nobles  saddled  with  speed; 

(Hurry!) 
Each  one  mounting  » gallant  steed 
Which  he  kept  for  battle  and  days  of  need; 

(Ride  as  though  you  were  flying!) 


98  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Spurs  were  struck  in  the  foaming  flank, 

Worn-out  chargers  stagger'd  and  sank; 
Bridles  were  slacken'd  and  girths  were  burst, 
But  ride  as  they  would,  the  king  rode  first, 
For  his  Rose  of  the  Isles  lay  dying! 

Compare  this  with  the  slower  movement  of  Longfellow's 
"Ride  of  Paul  Revere:" 

And  vmder  the  alders  that  skirt  its  edge. 
Now  soft  on  the  sand,  now  loud  on  the  ledge, 
Is  heard  the  tramp  of  his  steed  as  he  rides. 

And  then  compare  it  with  these  descriptive  words  in 
Scott's  translation  of  Biirger's  ballad  of  "Lenore:" 

Tramp,  tramp  along  the  land  they  rode, 
Splash,  splash  across  the  sea. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

I.  Name  ten  words  whose  sounds  suggest  their  mean- 
ings. 
"^  2.  Mention  two  harsh,  unmusical  words  of  this  class. 
Examine  Browning's  "Childe  Roland"  and  "Up  at  a 
Villa"  for  examples. 

3.  Give  several  words  which  suggest  moral  qualities, 
such  as  slink. 

4.  Should  onomatopoetic  words  be  used  sparingly,  or 
whenever  possible? 

5.  Avoiding  quotation,  what  suggestive  words  would 


ONOMATOPCEIA — SOUND    AND    MOVEMENT  99 

you  select  to  describe  the  constant  murmur  of  a  small 
stream? 
-^      6.  What  two  effects  may  be  gained  by  the  use  of  ono- 
matopoeia? 

7.  Which  is  the  more  easily  attained? 

8.  Write  a  stanza  descriptive  of  a  race  between  hydro- 
aeroplanes or  between  automobiles,  using  words  and 
rhythm  to  suggest  both  the  appropriate  sound  and  the 
speed. 

y,  9.  Write  a  criticism,  favorable  or  unfavorable,  or  both, 
of  any  poem  you  can  find  which  contains  a  passage  de- 
scriptive of  (a)  a  bird's  flight;  (b)  a  horse's  motion;  (c) 
the  sound  or  movement  of  the  sea;   (d)  a  singing  voice. 

"y,  10.  Select  a  line  of  poetry  whose  movement  is  slow,  and 
alter  so  as  to  quicken  it. 

11.  Alter  another  Hne  so  as  to  make  the  movement 
slower. 

12.  Give  examples  of  lines  whose  rhythm  does  not  suit 
the  sense. 

13.  Write  a  quatrain  describing  a  chime  of  bells  ringing 
for  a  wedding. 

14.  Write  one  describing  the  tolling  of  a  funeral  knell. 

15.  Write  a  couplet  (a)  descriptive  of  waves  dashing  on 
a  rocky  coast;  (b)  descriptive  of  waves  rolling  upon  a 
sandy  beach.  See  if  you  have  used  words  that  actually 
convey  the  sound  of  the  water. 


CHAPTER  X 

TONE-COLOR 

Words  are  available  for  something  which  is  more  than  knowl- 
edge. Words  afford  a  more  delicious  music  than  the  chords  of 
any  instrument;  they  are  susceptible  of  richer  colors  than  any 
painter's  palette;  and  that  they  should  be  used  merely  for  the 
transportation  of  intelligence,  as  a  wheelbarrow  carries  brick,  is 
not  enough.  The  highest  aspect  of  literature  assimilates  it  to 
painting  and  music.  Beyond  and  above  all  the  domain  of  use 
lies  beauty,  and  to  aim  at  this  makes  literature  an  art. 

— T.  W.  HiGGiNSON,  Atlantic  Essays. 

We  may  be  able  to  express  a  beautiful  thought  in  abso- 
lutely correct  verse:  our  lines  may  contain  the  proper 
number  of  syllables,  our  accents  may  fall  in  the  right 
places,  our  rhymes  may  be  perfect,  our  rhythm  may  be 
accurate,  and  yet  our  verse  be  far  from  beautiful. 

Why  is  this? 

Because  the  sound-effect  of  our  verse  may  not  be  beauti- 
ful. We  may  not  have  carefully  selected  the  separate 
words,  not  only  with  a  view  to  their  individual  sounds, 
but  also  to  the  sounds  of  the  words  with  which  they  are 
combined. 

The  ear  delights  in  harmony,  in  contrast,  and  in  a  certain 
amount  of  unobstrusive  repetition.  The  words  which  we 
choose  should  therefore  be  harmonious  in  themselves, 
the  rhyme-groups  should  be  contrasted  (see  chapter  on 
Rhyme),  and  certain  sounds  or  letters  should  be  judiciously 
repeated. 


TONE-COLOR  lOI 

The  words  which  a  poet  uses  may  be  compared  to  the 
bits  of  colored  glass  with  which  a  worker  in  mosaic  forms 
his  picture.  As  the  artist  combines,  contrasts,  and 
harmonizes  his  colored  bits  of  material,  so  the  poet  com- 
bines, contrasts,  and  harmonizes  the  syllables  of  his 
words,  echoing  vowel  with  vowel,  enhancing  consonant 
with  consonant,  and  the  resulting  quality  we  call  tone- 
color. 

Apart  from  their  appeal  to  the  mind  and  feeling,  the 
difference  in  the  beauty  of  two  poems,  both  equally  lofty 
in  subject  and  treatment,  or  even  in  two  stanzas  of  the 
same  poem,  is  usually  due,  in  the  last  analysis,  to  the 
variations  of  this  quality. 

Remember  that  we  are  not  now  discussing  thought 
or  emotion,  but  simply  sound.  Yet  it  is  true  that  an 
exquisite  sound  will  give  us  an  exquisite  emotion.  Read 
the  following  stanza: 

Carved  with  figures  strange  and  sweet, 

All  made  out  of  the  carver's  brain, 
For  a  lady's  chamber  meet: 

The  lamp  with  twofold  silver  chain 
Is  gathered  to  an  angel's  feet. 

— Coleridge,  Christabel. 

Now  why  should  this  description  of  a  lady's  room  fill 
us  with  distinct  pleasure?  There  is  no  particular  thought 
here;  there  is  no  particular  emotion;  there  is  simply 
suggestion  by  means  of  exquisite  sound. 

If  we  are  not  discussing  thought  or  feeling,  neither  are 
we  discussing  the  particular  meaning  of  words.   •Qft§»ft^ 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALiFOR 
RIVERSIDE 


I02  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

the  most  beautiful  poems  in  the  English  language  has 
very  little  intellectual  meaning,  and  was  admittedly  written 
as  the  recollection  of  an  opium  dream — the  "Kubla 
Khan"  of  Coleridge.  Its  excellence  consists  chiefly  in 
its  tone-color. 

So,  tone-color  has  nothing  to  do  with  thought,  or 
feeling,  or  meaning.  It  has  to  do  with  sound  and  sound 
only,  and  the  more  we  study  it  the  more  we  shall  discover 
how  great  poets  produced  by  this  means,  lines  of  undying 
beauty.  But,  of  course,  this  is  not  to  say  that  most  pas- 
sages of  charming  tone-color  possess  no  thought,  or  feeling, 
or  meaning! 

Mr.  Kipling  quotes  three  lines  of  "Kubla  Khan"  as 
"The  high- water  mark  that  but  two  of  the  sons  of  Adam 
have  reached."    Here  are  the  lines: 

A  savage  place  as  holy  and  enchanted 

As  e'er  beneath  a  waning  moon  was  haunted 

By  woman  wailing  for  her  demon  lover. 

And  Kipling  goes  on  to  say,  "Remember  that  in  all  the 
millions  permitted  there  are  no  more  than  five — five  little 
lines — of  which  one  can  say:  'These  are  the  pure  magic. 
These  are  the  clear  Vision.  The  rest  is  only  poetry,'  " 
and  then  he  gives  us  the  other  two: 

Magic  casements  opening  on  the  foam 
Of  perilous  seas  in   fairy-lands  forlorn. 

— Keats,  Ode  to  a  Nightingale. 

Before  seeing  if  we  can  analyze  the  beauty  of  these  two 
passages,  let  us  first  take  two  easier  ones.    We  have  said 


TONE-COLOR  103 

that  the  obviousness  of  the  alliteration  of  Swinburne's 
line, 

The  lilies  and  languors  of  virtue, 

rather  repels  us.    Contrast  it  with  this  line  from  Milton : 

The  pilot  of  the   Galilean  lake. 

Here  are  four  Vs  to  Swinburne's  three,  but  there  is  no 
feeling  of  excess,  and  the  music  is  far  subtler.  Why  is 
this?  It  is  because  the  Ps,  with  one  exception,  are  not 
initial  Ps;  they  come  to  us  unexpectedly  and  unob- 
trusively, mostly  in  the  middle  of  the  words,  and  the 
effect  is  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  the  one  initial  I  instead 
of  being  near  the  beginning  of  the  line,  and  showing  us 
what  to  expect,  comes  with  the  last  word  of  all,  giving  us 
a  sense  of  satisfaction  like  a  musical  chord  resolving  what 
has  gone  before.    Take  the  Coleridge  lines  before  quoted: 

A  savage  place  as  holy  and  enchanted 

As  e'er  beneath  a  waning  moon  was  haunted 

By  woman  wailing  for  her  demon  lover. 

Mark  the  varying  sounds  of  a  in  this  selection.     Mark 
the  w'5,  then  the  m^s,  then  the  o^s,  and  then  the  Ps.    Do 
you  see  how  they  echo,  contrast,  and  enhance  each  other? 
Take  the  Keats  selection: 

Magic  casements  opening  on  the  foam 
Of  perilous  seas  in  fairy-lands  forlorn. 

Here  we  have  the  varying  a^s  again,  the  m^s  and  n's,  the 


I04  THE   ART   OF  VERSIFICATION 

o's  and  I's;  and  we  have  a  new  element  of  beauty  in  the 
recurrent  r  sounds. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  some  soimds  are  beauti- 
ful in  themselves  while  some  are  not.  The  5  sound  which 
occurs  so  often  in  English,  is  not  beautiful.  Tennyson 
used  to  say  that  he  had  never  been  guilty  of  putting  two 
s's  together.  He  meant  at  the  end  of  one  word  and  the 
beginning  of  the  following  word.  The  Greeks  disliked 
the  5  sound  and  avoided  it  as  much  as  possible.  Another 
thing  the  Greeks  abhorred,  was  the  hiatus,  or  the  clashing 
of  two  similar  vowel-soimds.  In  poetry  it  was  absolutely 
forbidden.  In  English  we  try  to  avoid  it,  for  instance 
by  writing  mine  eyes  for  my  eyes. 

But  other  sounds — more  especially  vowel-sounds — 
are  peculiarly  pleasing.  A  distinguished  Frenchman  once 
said  that  the  i  sound  was  the  most  beautiful  in  the  English 
language,  and  he  also  said  that  Lily-of-the-V alley  was 
the  most  beautiful  English  word. 

We  easily  recognize  the  beauty  of  sound  in  some  foreign 
words,  the  Philippine  Iloilo — pronounced  e-lo-e-lo — 
for  example,  and  the  Hawaiian  Aloha. 

The  ear  derives  a  certain  pleasure  from  repetition,  as 
we  have  seen  in  considering  alliteration,  but  we  also 
found  that  a  subtle  and  unexpected  repetition,  varying 
between  initial  letters  and  letters  in  the  middle  of  words, 
pleased  us  more  than  marked  alliteration.  Therefore 
we  admired  Milton's  line. 

The  pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake. 
If,  then,  certain  sounds  are  musical  in  themselves,  a 


TONE-COLOR  I05 

passage  containing  those  sounds  will  probably  be  musical, 
and  if  the  ear  delights  in  unexpected  repetition,  the  more 
a  poet  weaves  such  delicate,  subsidiary  echoes  into  his 
verse,  the  more  beautiful,  verbally,  that  verse  will  be. 

We  may  concede  that  the  i  soimd  and  the  /  sound  are 
musical  and  pleasing.  But  there  is  short  i,  and  long  i. 
We  shall  find  that  we  gain  a  new  harmony  by  playing 
with  both.  For  example,  let  us  take  a  passage  contain- 
ing short  and  long  i^s,  and  Vs — the  speech  of  Perdita  to 
Florizel  in  Shakespeare's  "A  Winter's  Tale."  By  care- 
fully marking  some  of  the  letters  we  shall  see  why  the 
lines  are  beautiful. 

DsiSodih 
That  come  before  the  swa//ow  (/ares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with,  beauty;   violets,  dim, 
But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes, 
Or  C3'therea's  breath;    pa/e  prmroses. 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phoebus  in  his  strength,  a  walady 
Most  incident  to  msiids;   hold  oxlips,  anJ 
The  crown  imperia,l;   lilies  of  a.11  kinds 
The  f/ower-de-/uce  being  one!    Oh!  these  I  /ack. 
To  make  you  ga,Tla,nds  of. 

This  passage  will  repay  most  careful  study.  The  music 
of  it  is  produced  by  playing  on  the  sounds  of  d,  I,  i  and  m, 
though  the  n's  also  have  their  part  in  it  by  slightly  vary- 
ing the  m  sound.  Now  give  especial  attention  to 
sounds  of  long  i.  Notice  particularly  the  third  line  where 
the  w's  of  winds  and  with  change  into  the  related  sound  of 


lo6  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

V  in  violets.  Take  also  the  last  word  of  the  first  line  and 
the  two  last  words  of  the  third, 

daffodils, 
violets,  dim. 

You  have  there  a  delicious  music  expressed  in  a  form 
more  sweet  than  any  rhyme. 

We  can  easily  see  that  o^s  and  r's  give  sonorous  sound, 
and  m's  and  n's  resonance,  while  Fs  and  p's — the  labials 
that  close  the  lips  in  utterance — detract  from  these 
qualities.  Read  aloud  the  beginning  of  Parsons'  "Ode 
on  a  Bust  of  Dante:" 

See,  from  this  counterfeit  of  him 
Whom  Arno  shall  remember  long. 

How  stern  of  lineament,  how  grim, 
The  father  was  of  Tuscan  song! 

The  sonorous  syllables  roll  majestically  along  and  the 
effect  is  produced  by  o's  contrasted  with  broad  a^s,  and 
by  m''s  and  n's,  and  I's  and  r's.  Curiously  enough  there 
is  no  p,  and  but  one  b  in  this  whole  selection. 

Here  is  another  sonorous  and  solemn  example,  the 
finest  lines  that  Andrew  Lang  ever  wrote: 

The  bones  of  Agamemnon  are  a  show, 
And  ruined  is  his  royal  monument. 

Here  again  are  our  old  friends,  o's,  contrasted  with 
broad  a's;  and  here  are  m's  and  n's  and  r's.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  short  i  sound,  and  the  /,  convey  a  sense  of 


TONE-COLOR  I07 

littleness,  of  attenuation.  See  Mercutio's  description  of 
Queen  Mab's  chariot: 

Drawn  by  a  /earn  of  little  atomies. 

— Shakespeare,  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

Bu^  as  for  faeries  that  will  fli/. 
To  make  the  greensward  fresh, 

I  hold   them  exqmsitoly  knit, 
But  all  too  spare  of  flesh. 

— Tennyson,  The  Talking  Oak. 

We  have  seen  how  Matthew  Arnold  and  Tennyson  used 
long  vowels  and  sonorous  consonants  to  convey  one  aspect 
of  the  ocean,  "Long,  withdrawing  roar,"  "Cold,  heavy- 
plunging  foam."  Notice  how  another  view  of  the  sea 
is  exquisitely  given  in  this  rendition  of  a  line  of  Homer: 

The  innumerable,  twinkling  smile  of  ocean. 

Note  the  effect  of  the  many  short  syllables  reflecting  the 
light,  like  facets  of  a  diamond.  The  same  effect  of  short 
syllables  may  be  seen  in  Shakspeare's 

The    multitudinous    seas    incarnadine. 

— Macbeth. 

The  effects  which  these  poets  attained  were  not  the 
results  of  accident,  therefore  let  no  young  poet  think  that 
conscious  and  painstaking  selection  of  word- sounds  is 
beneath  him.  Coleridge  would  not  have  dreamed  "Kubla 
Khan"  in  its  perfection  if  he  had  not  been  in  the  habit 
of  choosing  his  words  with  care  when  he  was  awake. 


Io8  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Tennyson  worked  two  days  over  three  lines  of  "Come 
into  the  Garden,  Maud." 

Stevenson  says,  "One  sound  suggests,  echoes,  demands, 
and  harmonises  with  another,  and  the  art  of  rightly  using 
these  concordances  is  the  final  art  in  literature." 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  If  the  poet's  ear  is  not  sensitive  to  musical  sounds, 
do  you  believe  that  through  study  and  attention  he  may 
produce  pleasing  tone-color  effects? 

2.  Do  you  suppose  that  Shakespeare  or  Keats  relied 
upon  the  ear  alone  to  secure  euphony? 

3.  Recall  one  or  two  popular,  classical  songs,  and 
mark  the  number  of  words,  prolonged  by  the  tune,  that 
are  in  themselves  rich  in  tone-color. 

4.  In  any  of  the  sustained  passages  in  Shakespeare's 
plays,  note  the  generous  use  of  assonant  words. 

5.  Analyze  Coleridge's  stanza  describing  Christabel's 
room,  pointing  out  the  recurrence  of  certain  sounds  as 
an  element  of  beauty. 

6.  Select  three  poems  full  of  tone-color  and  point 
out  at  least  three  lines  of  each  which  illustrate  this  quality. 

7.  Revise  one  of  your  own  poems  with  a  view  to 
improving  its  tone  values. 

8.  Write  a  list  of  themes  which  seem  to  you  to  be 
inviting,  with  this  chapter  in  mind. 

9.  Work  up  one  of  them  into  a  short  poem,  using 
tone-color  discriminatingly. 

10.  Write  two  stanzas  descriptive  of  the  sea  (a)  in 
color;  (b)  in  storm,  seeking  chiefly  beautiful  tonal 
effects. 


CHAPTER  XI 

METERS   AND    THE    STANZA 

Every  poet,  then,  is  a  versifier;  every  fine  poet  an  excellent 
one;  and  he  is  the  best  whose  verse  exhibits  the  greatest  amount 
of  strength,  sweetness,  straightforwardness,  unsuperfluousness, 
variety,  and  oneness; — oneness,  that  is  to  say,  consistency,  in 
the  general  impression,  metrical  and  moral;  and  variety,  or 
every  pertinent  diversity  of  tone  and  rhythm,  in  the  process. 

— Leigh  Hunt,  What  is  Poetry? 

The  poet  who  has  an  idea  and  an  emotion  to  express 
is  early  confronted  with  the  choice  of  a  meter.  Often, 
no  doubt,  he  has  no  conscious  choice  in  the  matter — his 
idea  and  his  emotion  come  to  him  pulsing  with  a  rhythm 
of  their  own,  and  he  has  only  to  follow  his  own  first  feeling. 
So  we  may  say  that  a  good  poem  usually  brings  its  meter 
with  it,  and  the  form  is  the  inevitable  outcome  of  the 
germ. 

At  other  times,  however,  the  poet  must  deliberately 
select  the  form  best  fitted  to  embody  his  thought  and  feel- 
ing. He  may  choose  one  of  the  time-honored  patterns 
for  his  verse,  or  he  may  weave  a  new  one  for  himself;  but 
whatever  his  choice,  let  him  respect  its  conventions, 
rejoice  in  its  complications,  and  find  a  new  inspiration  in 
its  difficulties.  He  must  first  show  himself  a  master  of 
regularity  and  then  admit  no  irregularity  but  such  as  may 
arise  from  the  inner  meaning  of  his  verse.  He  must  prove 
that  he  can  keep  laws  before  he  presumes  to  ignore  them. 


no  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

It  will  do  him  no  harm  to  experiment  in  all  familiar  meters 
of  English  verse,  and  then  when  his  great  idea  comes  to 
him,  he  will  have  ready  a  fitting  garment  in  which  to 
clothe  it.  His  subject  will  largely  determine  his  choice — 
he  will  not  be  likely  to  write  an  Ode  on  Hunting,  or  a 
Triolet  on  the  Death  of  Lincoln. 

Meters,  like  other  things,  follow  the  fashion  and  change 
with  the  changing  years.  Let  us  glance  at  some  that  were 
popular  in  their  day.  Note,  however,  that  these  are  not 
now  considered  primarily  as  examples  of  rhyme,  even 
when  the  old  names  would  so  indicate,  but  as  specimens  of 
meter  and  stanza,  and  therefore  showing  the  sequence 
of  rhymes  in  the  stanza  arrangement  as  well  as  the  line 
measure. 

I.  Types  of  Stanza 

Riding  Rhyme. — The  meter  of  Chaucer's  "Canterbury 
Tales"  was  called  Riding  Rhyme  from  the  fact  that  the 
Tales  were  told  as  the  pilgrims  rode  in  company  from 
London  to  Canterbury.  It  consists  of  iambic  pentameter 
lines — each  therefore  containing  five  iambic  feet — rhymed 
in  couplets.  The  spelling  has  been  slightly  modernized 
in  the  following  example  from  the  opening  lines  of  the 
Prologue,  with  accents  added  to  indicate  the  extra  sylla- 
bles, for  many  words  have  shortened  their  pronunciation 
in  later  centuries. 

When  that  Aprile  with  his  showers  swoot^  (a) 

The  drought  of  March  hath  pierced  to  the  root,  (a) 

And  bathed  every  vein  in  such  liqour  (b) 
*  Sweet. 


METERS   AND   THE   STANZA  III 

Of  which  virtiie  engendered  is  the  flower;  (b) 

When  Zephynis  eke  with  his  sweete  breath 

Inspired  hath  in  every  holt  and  heath 

The  tender  croppes,  and  the  younge  sun 

Hath  in  the  Ram  his  halfe  course  yrun, 

And  smalle  fowles  maken  melody, 

That  sleepen  all  the  night  with  open  eye, — 

So  pricketh  hem^  natiire  in  hir  courages^ — 

Then  longen  folk  to  go  on  pilgrimages — 

And  palmers  for  to  seeken  strange  strands, 

To  feme  hallows^  couth^  in  sundry  lands; 

And  specially,  from  every  shires  end 

Of  Engeland,  to  Canterbury  they  wend, 

The  holy  blissful  martyr^  for  to  seek, 

That  hath  them  holpen  when  that  they  were  sick. 

Rhyme  Royal  was  the  stanza  of  Chaucer's  "Troylas 
and  Crysede,"  and  of  King  James's  "The  King's  Quhair. " 
It  is  thus  imitated  by  William  Morris,  whose  modern 
English  will  serve  us  better  than  the  aforementioned 
archaic  verse.  The  measure  is  iambic  pentameter.  The 
letters  in  the  margin  indicate  the  sequence  of  the 
rhymes. 

In  a  far  country  that  I  cannot  name,  (a) 

And  on  a  year  long  ages  past  away,  (b) 


1  Them. 

^  Their  hearts. 

^  Distant  holy  men,  or  saints. 

*  Known. 

'  Thomas  k  Becket. 


112  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

A  King  there  dwelt,  in  rest  and  ease  and  fame,    (a) 
And  richer  than  the  Emperor  is  today;  (b) 

The  very  thought  of  what  this  man  might  say     (b) 
From  dusk  to  dawn  kept  many  a  lord  awake,     (c) 
For  fear  of  him  did  many  a  great  man  quake,     (c) 
— The  Earthly  Paradise,  The  Proud  King. 

Poulter's  Measure. — In  Queen  Elizabeth's  day,  the 
so-called  Poulter's  Measure  was  said  to  be  the  commonest 
sort  of  verse.  It  took  its  name  from  the  poulterers,  who 
gave  twelve  eggs  for  the  first  dozen  and  fourteen  for  the 
second — a  custom  long  since  abandoned!  The  meter 
consists  of  a  line  of  iambic  hexameter — six  iambic  feet — 
alternating  with  a  line  of  seven,  iambic  heptameter. 

The  fear  of  future  foes  exiles  my  present  joy. 
And  wit  me  warnes  to  shun  such  snares  as  threaten 
mine  annoy. 

— Queen  Elizabeth. 

Ottava  Rima  (eighth  rhyme)  was  a  stanza  of  eight  lines, 
the  first  six,  forming  the  sestet,  rhymed  alternately,  and 
the  two  last  a  rhyming  couplet.  It  was  used  by  Spenser, 
Milton,  Keats  and  Byron.  The  meter  is  iambic  penta- 
meter. 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth  swain  to  the  rocks  and  rills,  (a) 

While  the  still  morn  went  out  with  sandals  gray,  (b) 

He  touch'd  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills,  (a) 

With  eager  thought  warbling  his  Doric  lay:  (b) 

And  now  the  sun  had  stretch'd  out  all  the  hills,  (a) 

And  now  was  dropt  into  the  western  bay;  (b) 


METERS  AND  THE  STANZA  II3 

At  last  he  rose,  and  twitch'd  his  mantle  blue;  (c) 

Tomorrow  to  fresh  woods,  and  pastures  new.  (c) 

— Milton,  Lycidas. 

The  Spenserian  Stanza  was  invented  by  Edmund 
Spenser  and  is  always  called  by  his  name. 

And  on  his  brest  a  bloodie  Crosse  he  bore,  (a) 

The  deare  remembrance  of  his  dying  Lord,  (b) 

For  whose  sweete  sake  that  glorious  badge  he  wore,  (a) 

And  dead,  as  living,  ever  him  ador'd:  (b) 

Upon  his  shield  the  like  was  also  scor'd,  (b) 

For  soveraine  hope  which  in  his  helpe  he  had  (c) 

Right  faithful  true  he  was  in  deede  and  word,  (b) 

But  of  his  cheere  did  seeme  too  solemne  sad;  (c) 

Yet  nothing  did  he  dread,  but  ever  was  ydrad.  (c) 
— The  Faerie  Queene,  Book  I,  Canto  I. 

This  stanza  consists  of  nine  lines,  eight  in  iambic 
pentameter,  and  the  ninth  an  Alexandrine — which  will 
be  explained  presently.  The  rhyme-scheme  is  irregular, 
as  the  key  letters  point  out.  In  his  great  poem  Spenser 
sustains  this  difficult  meter  for  3848  stanzas,  a  feat  which 
would  daunt  our  modern  poets.  It  is  also  the  stanza 
used  in  Byron's  "Childe  Harold,"  Burns's  "Cotter's 
Saturday  Night,"  and  Keats's  "Eve  of  St.  Agnes." 

Terza  Rinta  (third  rhyme)  is  in  iambic  rhythm,  not 
necessarily  pentameter,  and  is  usually  written  continuously 
and  not  in  stanzas.  It  consists  of  groups  of  three  lines; 
each  rhyme  is  used  three  times;  at  the  end  of  the  canto  or 
poem  an  extra  line  is  added  which  rhymes  with  the  middle 


114  THE   ART   or   VERSIFICATION 

line  of  the  preceding  group  of  three.  It  is  the  meter  of 
Dante's  "Divine  Comedy,"  and  has  seldom  been  essayed 
in  English.  Mrs.  Browning  used  it  in  "Casa  Guidi  Win- 
dows. " 

For  me  who  stand  in  Italy  today  (a) 

Where  worthier  poets  stood  and  sang  before,  (b) 

I  kiss  their  footsteps,  yet  their  words  gainsay,  (a) 

I  can  but  muse  in  hope  upon  this  shore  (b) 

Of  Golden  Arno  as  it  shoots  away  (a) 

Through  Florence'  heart  beneath  her  bridges  four,  (b) 

Heroic  Couplets. — In  the  i8th  Century,  lines  rhymed 
in  pairs,  called  couplets,  were  the  favorite  form.  When 
written  in  iambic  pentameter,  these  were  called  Heroic 
Couplets,  the  meter  of  Pope's  translation  of  the  "Iliad," 
a  herbic  poem. 

Achilles'  wrath  to  Greece  the   direful  spring 
Of  woes  unnumber'd,  heav'nly  goddess  sing. 

An  Alexandrine  is  a  line  consisting  of  a  series  of  six 
iambic  feet,  or  twelve  syllables,  called  iambic  hexameter. 
The  last  line  of  the  Spenserian  Stanza  is  an  Alexandrine, 
illustrated  in  the  foregoing  stanza  from  Spenser's  "Faerie 
Queen." 

A  needless  Alexandrine  ends  the  song 
That  like  a  wounded  snake  drags  its  slow  length 
along. 

— Pope. 


METERS   AND   THE   STANZA  II5 

Elegiac  Verse,  or  verse  composed  as  a  memorial  of  the 
dead,  was  composed  of  alternate  dactylic  hexameters 
and  pentameters. 

In  the  hexameter  rises  the  fountain's  silvery  column 
In  the  pentameter  aye  ||  falling  in  melody  back. 

— Coleridge,  Translation  from  Schiller. 

Notice  in  the  foregoing  pentameter  the  long  syllable 
followed  by  the  caesura,  or  pause,  after  the  word  "aye." 
The  caesura  is  treated  in  the  chapter  on  Blank  Verse. 

Common  Meter  is  a  four-line  stanza  written  in  alternate 
iambic  tetrameter  and  trimeter,  with  alternate  lines 
rhymed. 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 

His  wonders  to  perform; 
He  plants  His  footsteps  in  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm. 

— COWPER. 

Short  Meter  is  a  four-line  stanza  with  lines  one,  two, 
and  four  in  iambic  trimeter,  and  the  third  line  a  tetrameter. 
The  alternate  lines  are  rhymed. 

To  comfort  and  to  bless. 

To  find  a  balm  for  woe. 
To  tend  the  lone  and  fatherless 

Is  angel's  work  below. 

— M.  W.  How. 


Il6  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Long  Meter  is  a  four-line  stanza  written  in  iambic 
tetrameter,  the  lines  rhyming  in  pairs. 

Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Praise  Him  all  creatures  here  below,  etc. 

The  Couplet. — We  have  spoken  of  Pope's  use  of  the 
couplet;  the  word  is  also  used  to  denote  a  poem  of  two 
lines,  as  the  following  "Inscription  for  a  Well  in  Memory 
of  the  Martyrs  of  the  War,"  by  Emerson,  which  is  in 
rhymed  iambic  pentameter. 

Fall,  stream,  from  Heaven  to  bless;    return  as  well; 
So  did  our  sons;   Heaven  met  them  as  they  fell. 

It  is  also  used  to  designate  a  stanza  of  two  lines,  as  in 
Tennyson's  "Locksley  Hall,"  written  in  trochaic  octame- 
ter,  with  the  couplets  rhymed. 

Knowledge  comes  but  wisdom  lingers,  and  I  linger  on  the 

shore. 
And  the  individual  withers,  and  the  world  is  more  and 

more. 

The  Triplet. — Tennyson  uses  the  triplet,  or  stanza  of 
three  lines,  in  iambic  tetrameter,  and  but  one  rhyme  to 
the  stanza. 

A  still  small  voice  spake  unto  me, 
"Life  is  so  full  of  misery 
Were  it  not  better  not  to  be?" 

— 2^ he  Two  Voices. 


METERS   AND  THE   STANZA  II7 

As  a  three-line  poem  the  triplet  is  much  more  rare. 
Prof.  Brander  Matthews,  in  his  "A  Study  of  Versifica- 
tion," quotes  the  following  from  Robert  Herrick: 

On  Himself 

Lost  to  the  world,  lost  to  himself,  alone 
Here  now  I  rest  imder  this  marble  stone, 
In  depth  of  silence,  heard  and  seen  of  none. 

The  Quatrain  is,  correctly  speaking,  a  poem  of  four 
lines  embodying  a  complete  thought,  as  this  of  Father 
Tabb  on  "Fame:" 

Their   noonday  never   knows 
What  names  immortal  are: 

'Tis  night  alone  that  shows 
How   star   surpasseth   star. 

The  four-line  stanza,  however,  sometimes  called  the 
quatrain,  is  our  most  familiar  form  of  verse.  We  have 
seen  the  ordinary  arrangement  in  Longfellow's  "Psalm 
of  Life,"  where  the  alternate  lines  rhyme,  and  the  meter 
is  trochaic  tetrameter,  with  the  second  and  fourth  lines 
one  syllable  short. 

Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers. 

Life  is  but  an  empty  dream; 
For  the  soiil  is  dead  that  slumbers. 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 

Tennyson  varies  the  rhyme-sequence  in  "In  Memoriam" 


Il8  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

by  coupling  his  first  and  fourth  lines,  and  his  second  and 
third.    The  meter  here  is  iambic  tetrameter. 

I  hold  it  truth  with  one  who  sings  (a) 

To  one  clear  harp  in  divers  tones,  (b) 

That  men  may  rise  on  stepping-stones  (b) 

Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things.  (a) 

In  Fitzgerald's  translation  of  Omar  Khayyam  we  have 
still  another  rhyme  arrangement;  the  lines  are  iambic 
pentameter. 

Indeed  the  idols  I  have  loved  so  long,  (a) 

Have  done  my  credit  in  men's  minds  much  wrong;  (a) 

Have  drowned  my  glory  in  a  shallow  cup,  (b) 

And  sold  my  reputation  for  a  song.  (a) 

Tennyson  gives  us  still  another  type  of  the  quatrain, 
which  is  called  second  and  fourth  line  short,  and  is  patently 
irregular  throughout. 

The  poet  in  a  golden  clime  was  born. 

With  golden  stars  above, 
Dowered  with  the  hate  of  hate,  the  scorn  of  scorn. 

The  love  of  love. 

— The  Poet. 

The  same  poet  uses  the  quatrain  with  interesting  and 
effective  freedom  in  "Crossing  the  Bar,"  which  is  a 
miracle  of  variety  producing  imity. 


METERS   AND   THE   STANZA  II9 

First  and  Fourth  Line  Short  presents  still  another 
quatrain  type.  Notice  the  poet's  use  of  irregularities 
in  the  rhythm. 

Whither,  midst  falling  dew,  (a) 

While  glow  the  heavens  with  the  last  steps  of  day,  (b) 
Far,  through  their  rosy  depths,  dost  thou  pursue       (a) 

Thy  solitary  way?  (b) 

— Bryant,  To  a  Waterfowl. 

The  Five-Line  Stanza. — Of  this  there  are  many  varieties. 
A  favorite  one  is  rhymed  a,  h,  a,  h,  a;  another,  a,  b,  a,  a,  b; 
another,  a,  b,  a,  b,  b. 

That  was  I,  you  heard  last  night,  (a) 

Where  there  rose  no  moon  at  all,  (b) 

Nor,  to  pierce  the  strained  and  tight    (a) 

Tent  of  heaven,  a  planet  small :  (b) 

Life  was  dead,  and  so  was  light.  (a) 

— Browning,  A  Serenade  at  the  Villa. 

Tonight  this  sunset  spreads  two  golden  wings     (a) 

Cleaving  the  western  sky;  (b) 

Winged  too  with  wind  it  is,  and  winnowings       (a) 

Of  birds;    as  if  the  day's  last  hour  in  rings  (a) 

Of  strenuous  flight  must  die.  (b) 

— RossETTi,  Sunset  Wings. 

Teach  us,  sprite  or  bird,  (a) 

What  sweet  thoughts  are  thine;  (b) 

I  have  never  heard  (a) 

Praise  of  love  or  wine  (b) 

That  panted  forth  a  flood  of  rapture  so  divine,     (b) 

— Shelley,  The  Skylark. 


I20  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

A  Six-Line  Stanza,  sextet,  or  sestet,  may  be  rhymed 
a,  b,  a,  b,  a,  b,  or  a,  b,  a,  b,  c,  c,  or  a,  b,  c,  c,  b,  a. 

She  walks  in  beauty,    like    the  night  (a) 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies;  (b) 

And  all  that's  best  of  dark  or  bright  (a) 

Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes;  (b) 

Thus  mellowed  to  that  tender  light  (a) 

Which  heaven  to  gaudy  day  denies,  (b) 

— Byron,  She  Walks  in  Beauty. 

My  days  among  the  dead  are  past;  (a) 

Aroimd  me  I  behold,  (b) 

Where'er  these  casual  eyes  are  cast,  (a) 

The  mighty  minds  of  old:  (b) 

My  never  failing  friends  are  they,  (c) 

With  whom  I  converse  day  by  day.  (c) 

— SouTHEY,  The  Scholar. 

Then  a  mile  of  warm  sea-scented  beach;  (a) 

Three  fields  to  cross  till  a  farm  appears;  (b) 

A  tap  at  the  pane,  the  quick  sharp  scratch  (c) 

And  blue  spurt  of  a  lighted  match,  (c) 

And  a  voice  less  loud,  through  its  joys  and  fears,  (b) 

Then  the  two  hearts  beating  each  to  each!  (a) 

— Browning,  Meeting  at  Night. 

Burns's  favorite  six-line  stanza  runs  a,  a,  a,  b,  a,  b. 

Wee,    modest,    crimson-tipped   flow'r,  (a) 

Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour,  (a) 

For  I  mavm  crush  amang  the  stoure  (a) 

Thy  slender  stem:  (b) 


METERS   AND  THE   STANZA  121 

To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r     (a) 
Thou  bonnie  gem.  (b) 

— To  a  Mountain  Daisy. 

Tail-Rhyme  Stanza  is  a  stanza  of  which  the  rhyme  order 
is  a,  a,  b,  c,  c,  b.  The  b,  b  is  the  tail-rhyme  and  the  lines 
containing  it  are  usually  shorter  than  the  others. 

And  if  I  should  live  to  be  (a) 

The  last  leaf  upon  the  tree,  (a) 

In  the  spring,  (b) 

Let  them  laugh,  as  I  do  now,  (c) 

At  the  old  forsaken  bough  (c) 

Where  I  cling.  (b) 

— Holmes,  The  Last  Leaf. 

There  may  be  more  than  two  lines  of  the  sections  a,  a, 
and  c,  c,  as  in  the  following: 

Fair  stood  the  wind  for  France,  (a) 

When  we  our  sails  advance,  (a) 

Nor  now  to  prove  our  chance  (a) 

Longer  will  tarry;  (b) 

But  putting  to  the  main,  (c) 

At  Caux  the  mouth  of  Seine,  (c) 

With  all  his  martial  train  (c) 

Landed  King  Harry.  (b) 

— Drayton,  The  Battle  of  Agincourt. 

2.  Indenting 

This  seems  a  fitting  point  at  which  to  call  attention 
to  the  almost  universal  custom  of  indenting,  or  setting 


122  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

in,  certain  lines  of  a  stanza  in  writing,  or  preparing  it  for 
the  printer.  The  practice  varies  so  greatly  that  no  fixed 
rule  may  be  stated,  but  an  examination  of  the  stanzas 
quoted  in  this  chapter  will  show  that  the  three  prevail- 
ing arrangements  are  to  indent  not  at  all,  indent  only 
the  first  line,  or  align  the  first  words  of  those  lines  which 
rhyme  with  each  other.  Unless  the  poet  feels  secure 
enough  in  his  mastery  to  hew  out  a  new  way  for  himself, 
it  is  better  to  follow  the  scheme  of  indentation  used  by 
some  poet  who  uses  the  type  of  stanza  which  is  to  be 
followed  in  technique. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Look  up  the  derivation  of  the  words  stanza  and 
meter. 

2.  Make  a  scrap-book  collection  of  every  possible 
form  of  stanza,  beginning  with  the  couplet.  So  far  as 
you  can,  give  them  names  and  mark  the  accents. 

3.  Cut  from  the  magazines  ten  different  sorts  of 
stanza;  for  example,  three  several  quatrains  would  be 
regarded  as  three  kinds  if  the  feet  used  were  different. 

4.  When  a  thought  comes  to  mind  already  moulded 
in  a  rhythmic  line,  is  it  likely  to  be  cast  in  a  meter  appro- 
priate to  its  expression? 

5.  In  reading  a  poem  for  the  first  time,  do  you  find 
that  the  meter  and  the  stanza-forms  usually  attract 
your  attention? 

6.  If  a  meter  obtrudes  upon  your  notice,  does  that 
suggest  that  its  choice  was  unfortunate? 

7.  In  your  opinion,  would  some  of   Hood's  serious 


METERS   AND   THE   STANZA  1 23 

poems  in  jingling  meter  have  been  better  had  he  moulded 
them  in  forms  more  popular  with  other  poets? 

8.  Will  more  than  one  meter  be  thoroughly  appro- 
priate to  the  expression  of  any  given  thought? 

9.  Write  a  line  in  iambic  pentameter. 

10.  Write  an  Alexandrine  line. 

11.  Select  three  stanza-forms  shown  in  this  chapter 
and  write  a  stanza  in  each  style,  considering  fitness  first 
of  all. 

12.  (a)  Recast  in  another  stanza-form  a  stanza  from 
one  of  the  poets,  (b)  Apart  from  its  poetic  language,  if 
that  is  materially  altered,  does  it  suffer  by  the  change? 

13.  Take  an  ornate  passage  from  either  Burke, 
Macaulay,  Emerson,  or  Irving,  and  do  it  over  into  verse. 
Note  that  exclamatory  sentences  will  often  aid  you  in 
this  sort  of  translation. 

14.  Take  one  of  your  own  quatrains  and  change  it 
into  a  tail-rhyme  stanza. 

15.  Select  one  of  your  own  themes,  carefully  consider 
the  most  suitable  meter  and  stanza-form,  and  write  a 
series  of  verses.  For  practice  purposes,  do  not  hesitate 
to  model  your  work  on  that  of  others,  yet  seek  to  cultivate 
originality.  Invent  other  exercises  which  will  give  you 
a  mastery  of  many  metrical  and  stanza  forms.  Do  a 
great  deal  of  recasting  in  order  to  attain  to  variety. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IRREGULARITIES 

The  more  inspired  the  poet  may  be  and  the  loftier  the  theme, 
the  less  likely  are  we  to  turn  the  crystal  over  in  search  of  flaws. 
When  we  are  rapt  out  of  ourselves  we  fail  to  notice  any  little 
liberties  the  poet  may  have  taken  with  the  language,  and  we 
are  ready  enough  to  pardon  them  if  they  attract  our  attention. 
— Brander  Matthews,  A  Study  of  Versification. 

Irregularity  should  proceed  from  strength  and  not 
from  weakness.  Great  poets  used  many  irregularities, 
but  only  because  they  were  so  well  able  to  do  without 
them.  "Nice  customs  curtsey  to  great  kings,"  but 
ordinary  mortals  had  better  observe  nice  customs. 

I.  Irregularity  is  Allowable  if  it  Indicates  Difference  in 
Meaning. 

When  you  do  dance,  I  wish  you 
A  wave  o'  the  sea,  that  you  might  ever  do 
Nothing  but  that. 

— Shakespeare,  Winter's  Tale. 

Here  the  verse  dances  with  the  extra  syllable  in  "A 
wave  o'  the  sea." 

The  one  red  leaf,  the  last  of  its  clan, 
That  dances  as  often  as  dance  it  can, 
Hanging  so  light,  and  hanging  so  high. 
On  the  topmost  twig  that  looks  up  to  the  sky. 

— Coleridge,  Christabel. 


IRREGULARITIES  1 25 

Here  Coleridge  makes  the  red  leaf  dance  with  his  danc- 
ing verse.  In  his  introduction  to  this  poem  he  says, 
"The  meter  of  the  Christabel  is  not,  properly  speaking, 
irregular,  though  it  may  seem  so  from  its  being  founded 
on  a  new  principle;  namely,  that  of  counting  in  each  line 
the  accents,  not  the  syllables.  Though  the  latter  may 
vary  from  seven  to  twelve,  yet  in  each  line  the  accents 
will  be  found  to  be  only  four.  Nevertheless  this  occasional 
variation  in  number  of  syllables  is  not  introduced 
wantonly,  or  for  the  mere  ends  of  convenience,  but  in 
correspondence  with  some  transition,  in  the  nature  of  the 
imagery  or  passion." 

Coleridge  did  good  service  in  delivering  English  verse 
from  the  fetters  in  which  it  had  been  bound  by  Pope. 

A  beautiful  example  of  irregularity  caused  by,  and 
enhancing,  the  meaning  of  verse,  is  found  in  the  exquisite 
opening  lines  of  Tennyson's  "The  Sleeping  Palace." 

The  vary  |  ing  year  |  with  blade  |  and  sheaf  | 
Clothes  and  |  reclothes  |  the  hap  |  py  plains.  | 

There  is,  you  see,  an  extra  syllable  in  the  word  varying. 
Suppose  we  substitute  for  it  the  word  changing. 

The  chang  |  ing  year  |  with  blade  |  and  sheaf  | 
Clothes  and  |  reclothes  |  the  hap  |  py  plains.  | 

We  have  here  absolute  regularity  and  the  same  meaning, 
but  the  beauty  of  the  line  has  fled.  The  slight  turn  given 
to  Tennyson's  line  by  the  extra  light  syllable  in  varying, 
makes  us  see  the  change  of  season,  and  the  sound  of  the 


126  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

y  gives  us  pleasure  as  it  is  repeated  in  the  sound  of  the 
word  year. 

2.  Other  Irregularities 

Elision  is  the  partial  or  entire  loss  of  a  vowel-sound  at 
the  end  of  a  word  when  the  next  word  begins  a  vowel, 
as  th'  for  the,  V  th^  for  irt  the,  and  o'  th'  for  of  the.  It 
is  used  not  only  to  avoid  a  false  accent  but  also  to  subdue 
imimportant  words  in  the  line. 

Slurring  is  passing  lightly  over  unimportant  syllables 
for  the  same  purposes  as  in  the  case  of  the  elision. 
Thus,  radiant,  or  beauteous  may  be  pronounced  in  the 
time  of  two  syllables;  the  extra  syllable  is  not  suppressed 
but  hurried  over,  giving  variety  and  lightness  to  the  verse. 
It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  this  sort  of  irregularity, 
in  common  with  all  others,  must  be  used  but  seldom,  or 
at  most  AAdth  careful  intention.  Here  are  two  good 
examples: 

From  diamond  quarries  hewn  and  rocks  of  gold. 

— Milton. 

A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone. 

— Wordsworth. 

Contraction  is  the  suppression  of  an  entire  syllable. 
Some  words,  like  heaven  and  power,  may  be  pronounced  as 
one  syllable  if  the  meter  requires  it.  Formerly,  contracted 
words  were  written  heaven,  pow'r,  but  it  is  now  the  custom 
to  print  them  in  full. 

Expansion  is  accenting  a  normally  silent  syllable  for 


nLREGULARITIES  1 2  7 

the  sake  of  the  meter.    Some  poets  indicate  this  expansion 
by  the  addition  of  an  accent,  as  in  the  following  example: 

Adown  the  glen,  rode  armed  men. 

— Campbell,  Lord  Ullin's  Daughter. 

In  the  case  of  some  words  this  practice  is  almost  uni- 
versal. The  word  beloved,  for  instance,  is  usually  pro- 
nounced as  three  syllables  in  poetry. 

In  Hovering  Accent  the  stress,  instead  of  falling  defi- 
nitely on  one  syllable,  hovers  between  two, — between 
word-accent  and  verse-accent.  This  irregularity  is  ex- 
plained by  some  authorities  as  the  introduction  of  a 
spondee — a  foot,  both  syllables  of  which  are  accented — 
into  a  line  of  another  sort. 

That  through  the  green  cornfield  did  pass. 

— Shakespeare. 

Wrenched  Accent  throws  the  stress  definitely  on  an 
unaccented  syllable,  which  is  intended  to  be  read  aloud 
with  this  odd  accentuation. 

Sir  Patrick  Spens  is  the  best  sailor 
That  ever  sailed  the  sea. 

—Old  Ballad. 

Among  modern  poets  Swinburne  and  Rossetti  sometimes 
employ  the  wrenched  accent,  but  it  is  found  mostly  in 
old  ballads.  There  it  seems  naive  enough,  but  in  more 
sophisticated  verse  it  sounds  artificial   and   should   be 


128  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

avoided.      The  following    is    a    particularly    audacious 
specimen : 

For  the  stars  and  the  winds  are  unto  her 

As  raiment,  as  songs  of  the  harp-player, 

— Swinburne. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  When  a  thought  can  be  expressed  in  faultless 
meter,  is  it  ever  wise  to  introduce  an  irregularity?  Give 
reasons  for  your  answer. 

2.  What  is  the  usual  effect  upon  a  well  balanced 
line  of  the  addition  of  one  or  more  syllables? 

3.  Should  such  words  as  heaven  and  hour  be  considered 
as  words  of  one  or  of  two  syllables? 

4.  May  they  properly  be  considered  to  have  which- 
ever number  is  desired? 

5.  Do  such  words  receive  more  stress  when  they  are 
located  at  the  end  of  a  line? 

6.  What  is  meant  by  elision}    Illustrate. 

7.  Write  a  stanza  upon  the  theme  of  rain  beating 
upon  forest  trees,  and  attempt  by  the  use  of  irregularities 
in  the  lines  to  suggest  something  of  the  movement  of 
leaves  and  branches. 

8.  Search  for  examples  of  all  the  irregularities  ex- 
plained in  this  chapter.  If  possible,  clip  or  copy  them 
from  magazines  for  your  collection.  Write  several 
stanzas  using  some  of  the  irregularities  you  have  dis- 
covered. 


IRREGULARITIES  1 29 

9.    Point  out  the  irregularities  in  a  page  from  Shakes- 
peare, Milton,  or  Tennyson. 

10.  Point  out  any  which  mar  rather  than  improve 
the  verse. 

11.  In  general,  does  any  one  form  of  irregularity  seem 
more  useful  than  others?     Which? 


CHAPTER  XIII 

EPIC   POETRY 

Loose  and  free  and  of  slow  growth,  the  epic  poem  was  for 
centuries  the  dominant  story-form.  It  took  the  wealth  of  ma- 
terial in  which  the  ancient  world  abounded  and  strung  the 
scattered  stories  upon  a  strand  of  personality.  Thus  a  Ulysses 
or  an  ^neas  became  the  hero  of  tales  originally  told  of  many 
another.  From  prehistoric  times  down  to  the  years  when  the 
printed  page  spread  the  tale  open  before  every  eye,  the  resident 
or  the  traveling  story-teller  was  almost  the  only  purveyor  of 
fiction,  and  he  was  "as  welcome  as  is  a  visitor  with  recent  maga- 
zines to  a  lighthouse  on  some  distant  and  lonely  island." 

— Writing  the  Short-Story. 

Reserving  for  later  chapters  the  treatment  of  blank 
verse  (Chapter  XIV)  and  hexameters  (Chapter  XX)  as 
the  meters  usually  adopted  by  writers  of  heroic  poetry, 
it  is  now  time  to  consider  this  greatest  of  all  poetic  types. 

An  epic  is  a  long  narrative  poem  which  deals  impressively 
with  some  lofty  theme,  usually  centering  its  action  about 
gods,  demi-gods,  or  heroes. 

Higher  or  heroic  epics  were  the  first  and  greatest.  They 
were  not  individual  in  authorship,  but  national — they 
grew  by  accretion,  developing  from  time  to  time  by  the 
inclusion  of  the  myths,  legends,  heroic  struggles,  and 
religious  beliefs  of  a  people  whose  life  they  thus  came  to 
typify  and  express.  Naturally,  they  were  not  the  pro- 
duction of  any  one  man,  for  there  were  no  poets  in  those 
days — that  is,  no  individuals  who  claimed  certain  verses 


EPIC  POETRY  131 

as  their  own.  There  were  only  singers  who  chanted  the 
traditional  lines  which  had  come  down  from  a  misty 
past,  and  in  the  course  of  ages  these  lines  became  uniform 
and  polished  like  pebbles  in  the  current  of  a  brook. 

Such  were  the  Homeric  poems,  the  "Iliad"  and  the 
"Odyssey;"  but  they  differ  from  other  heroic  sagas  in 
having  come  down  from  their  crude  beginnings,  to  con- 
tinue their  course  through  the  life  of  the  most  cultivated 
and  artistic  people  of  the  world,  like  a  stream,  which, 
starting  in  the  rocky  summits,  winds  its  way  at  last 
among  the  gardens  and  cities  of  the  plain.  In  their  final 
form  the  Homeric  epics  are  the  arrangement  of  educated 
as  well  as  noble  minds,  and  to  this  we  owe  their  wonderful 
unity,  composition,  and  plot.  Eventually  their 
arrangement  was  guarded  by  law  and  from  early  in  the 
fifth  century,  B.  C,  they  were  publicly  recited  at  Athens 
in  a  prescribed  order. 

Other  national  epics — the  development  of  the  recited 
and  not  of  the  written  poem  —  are  the  East  Indian 
" Mahabharata, "  the  Saxon  "Beowulf,"  the  Icelandic 
"Sagas,"  the  Finnish"  Kalevala,"  and  the  Old  German 
"Niebelungen  Lied."  Like  the  Homeric  poems,  they 
were  the  slow  growth  of  generations. 

Among  us,  there  can  never  be  a  new  national  epic  of 
this  impersonal  character.  The  invention  of^  printing, 
the  spread  of  education,  the  breaking  down  of  national 
barriers,  and  the  fact  that  poets  are  not  content  to  remain 
anonymous,  are  factors  which  unite  to  render  impossible 
such  a  revival  of  the  form. 

The  written  or  art  epic  is  a  different  matter.    It  is  the 


132  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

production  of  one  man.  It  is  not  a  growth,  it  is  something 
made.  Virgil's  "^Eneid"  and  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost" 
are  lofty  examples  of  the  written  epic. 

Dante's  "Divine  Comedy"  may  be  called  an  epic.  He 
called  it  a  comedy  because,  in  his  day,  a  comedy  meant  a 
narrative  that  did  not  end  tragically,  while  a  tragedy 
meant  "the  story  of  those  who  had  fallen  from  high  to 
low  estate."  Tasso's  "Jerusalem  Delivered"  and 
Ariosto's  "Orlando  Furioso"  are  also  art  epics,  and 
likewise  bear  the  names  of  their  true  authors. 

An  epic  should  tell  a  story,  yet  not  comment  or  moralize 
upon  it.  It  may,  and  is  pretty  certain  to,  contain  separate 
episodes  and  dialogue.  The  meter  must  be  uniform, 
and  we  may  add,  the  story  must  be  interesting. 
The  "Odyssey,"  apart  from  its  other  merits,  has  been 
called  the  finest  story  in  the  world;  it  is  more  interesting 
than  a  novel,  more  exciting  than  a  best-seller. 

All  of  the  great  epics  which  are  the  product  of  other 
languages  may  now  be  read  in  English  translation,  any 
one  of  which  is  good  enough  to  convey  a  satisfactory  idea 
of  the  original,  both  as  regards  content  and  form. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 


Make  a  list  of  all  the  epics  you  can. 

Which  are  higher  epics  and  which  art  epics? 

Tell  briefly  the  story  of  any  one. 

Examine  several  and  copy  specimens  of  their  meters. 

Write  a  few  lines  in  imitation  of  each. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BLANK   VERSE 

That  which  is  the  glory  of  blank  verse,  as  a  vehicle  of  poetry, 
is  also  its  danger  and  its  difficulty.  Its  freedom  from  the  fetters  of 
rime,  the  infinite  variability  of  the  metrical  structure  of  its  lines, 
the  absence  of  couplets  and  stanzas, — all  assimilate  it  to  prose. 
It  is  the  easiest  of  all  conceivable  meters  to  write;  it  is  the 
hardest  to  write  well.  Its  metrical  requirements  are  next  to 
nothing;  its  poetical  requirements  are  infinite.  It  was  Byron, 
I  believe,  who  remarked,  that  it  differed  from  other  meters  in 
this,  that  whereas  they  required  a  certain  proportion  of  lines, 
some  more,  some  less,  to  be  good,  in  a  blank  verse  every  line 
must  be  good. 

— Shadworth  H.  Hodgson,  English  Verse;  quoted  in 
Matthews'  A  Study  of  Versification. 

Blank  verse  is  not  merely  unrhymed  poetry,  but  the 
term  has  come  to  mean  a  particular  metrical  form.  As 
commonly  understood,  blank  verse  consists  of  a  line  of 
ten  syllables  with  five  beats  at  regular  intervals — an 
unaccented  followed  by  an  accented  syllable,  forming 
five  iambic  feet,  or  iambic  pentameter.  This  metrical 
scheme,  which  is  sometimes  called  English  Heroic  Measure, 
because  of  its  peculiar  adaptability  to  noble  or  heroic 
themes,  is  the  meter  of  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost:" 

I  may  |  assert  |  eter  |  nal  Prov  |  idence  | 
And  jus  I  tify  ]  the  ways  |  of  God  |  to  men.  | 

— Paradise  Lost,  Book  I,  Line  26. 


134  THE  ART  OF  VERSIPICATION 

It  will  be  interesting  to  read  a  master  poet's  own  des- 
cription of  the  meter  of  his  great  poem. 

I.  Milton  on  Blank  Verse 

"The  measure  is  English  Heroic  Verse,  without  rime, 
as  that  of  Homer  in  Greek,  and  of  Virgil  in  Latin;  Rime 
being  no  necessary  Adjimct  or  true  Ornament  of  Poem 
or  good  Verse,  in  longer  Works  especially,  but  the  In- 
vention of  a  barbarous  Age,  to  set  off  wretched  matter 
and  lame  Meeter.  *****  True  musical  delight — 
consists  only  in  apt  Numbers,  fit  quantity  of  Syllables, 
and  the  same  variously  drawn  out  from  one  verse  into 
another,  not  in  the  jingling  soimd  of  like  endings.  *  *  * 
This  neglect  then  of  Rime,  so  little  is  to  be  taken  for  a 
defect,  though  it  may  seem  so  perhaps  to  vulgar  readers, 
that  it  rather  is  to  be  esteem'd  an  example  set,  the  first 
in  English,  of  ancient  liberty  recovered  to  Heroic  Poem 
from  the  troublesome  and  modem  bondage  of  Riming." 
Although  Milton  terms  his  poem  "An  example  set,  the 
first  in  English,"  it  was  not  the  first  English  heroic  poem 
in  blank  verse.  Henry  Howard,  that  Earl  of  Surrey  to 
whom  we  owe  the  introduction  of  the  sonnet,  was  the 
first  to  attempt  blank  verse  in  English,  in  his  translation 
of  the  second  and  fourth  books  of  Virgil's  "^Eneid. '' 
The  following  is  a  specimen  of  Surrey's  blank  verse: 

I  lived  and  ran  the  course  fortune  did  grant; 

And  under  earth  my  great  ghost  now  shall  wend; 

A  goodly  town  I  built  and  saw  my  walls; 

Happy,  alas,  too  happy,  if  these  coasts 

The  Troyan  ships  had  never  touched  aye. 


BLANK  VERSE  I35 

Surrey's  verse  has  occasional  roughnesses  and  crude- 
nesses,  but  on  the  whole  its  effect  is  one  of  too  much 
uniformity  and  monotony,  due  to  his  tendency  to  regard 
the  line  as  the  unit,  and  so  to  terminate  his  thought  at 
the  end  of  each.  The  mind  can  take  no  wide  sweep  or 
lofty  flight  when  it  is  continually  halted  at  each  ten 
syllables. 

Monotony,  indeed,  is  the  great  fault  to  be  guarded 
against  by  the  amateur  writer  of  blank  verse.  If  he  be 
not  careful,  he  will  find  that  his  series  of  five  iambic  feet 
will  go  jogging  endlessly  along  without  relief,  without 
variety,  without  power  or  beauty. 

To  counteract  this  tendency,  let  him  study  the  blank 
verse  of  Milton.  There  is  no  monotony  in  "Paradise 
Lost."  The  music  is  endlessly  varied,  and  this  variety 
is  gained  in  two  ways :  first,  by  the  wide  sweep  of  thought 
over-leaping  the  bondage  of  the  line  and  forming  groups 
or  stanzas  of  varying  length,  or  as  Milton  describes  it, 
"the  sense  variously  drawn  out  from  one  verse  into 
another."  Second,  by  the  constant  shifting  of  the  place 
of  the  caesura,  or  pause,  thus  delighting  the  ear  with  a 
continual  change  of  cadence. 

2.  Examples  of  Milton's  Groups  of  Lines 

If  thou  beest  he — But  O,  how  fallen!  how  changed 
From  him,  who  in  the  happy  realms  of  light. 
Clothed  with  transcendent  brightness,  didst  outshine 
Myriads  though  bright! 

— Paradise  Lost,  Book  I,  Line  87. 


136  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

He  spake;    and  to  confirm  his  words,  outflew 
Millions  of  flaming  swords,  drawn  from  the  thighs 
Of  mighty  cherubim;    the  sudden  blaze 
Far  roimd  illumined  hell:    highly  they  raged 
Against  the  Highest,  and  fierce  with  grasped  arms 
Clash'd  on  their  sounding  shields  the  din  of  war, 
Hurling  defiance  toward  the  vault  of  heaven. 

— Book  I,  Line  669. 

Milton's  periods,  with  no  hint  of  weakness  or  fatigue, 
sometimes  sustain  a  flight  of  as  many  as  twenty-two 
lines,  before  the  thought  and  the  verse  alight  together. 

J.  The  CcBsura  or  Pause 

Cowper  says  of  blank  verse,  "The  writer  in  this  kind 
of  meter,  in  order  that  he  may  be  musical,  must  exhibit 
all  the  variations,  as  he  proceeds,  of  which  ten  syllables 
are  susceptible.  Between  the  first  and  the  last,  there  is 
no  place  at  which  he  must  not  occasionally  pause,  and 
the  place  of  the  pause  must  be  continually  shifted."  ' 

In  a  line  so  long  as  a  pentameter,  or  a  hexameter,  a  pause 
is  sometimes  needed  in  order  to  take  breath  in  reciting  or 
reading  aloud.  This  pause,  or  division,  is  called  the 
ccesura,  and  its  place  in  the  line  is  determined  by  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words.  In  classic  verse,  it  fell  at  the  end  of  a 
word,  but  usually  in  the  middle  of  a  foot,  and  it  was  gov- 
erned by  various  complicated  rules  which  are  not  ob- 
served in  modem  practice.    In  English  verse  it  should  fall 

'  Note  also  the  quotation  from  Hodgson  which  introduces  this 
chapter. 


BLANK  VERSE  I37 

at  the  end  of  both  foot  and  word,  but  not  always  at  the  end 
of  the  same  foot,  or  an  effect  of  monotony  and  dull  uni- 
formity will  be  the  result.  Milton  constantly  varies  the 
location  of  the  caesura  with  excellent  effect,  as  the  follow- 
ing examples  will  show: 

Pause  after  istfoot. 

The   careful   plowman   doubting   stands, 
Lest  on  the  threshing-floor  his  hopeful  sheaves 

Prove  chaff.    X    On  the  other  side,  Satan,  alarm'd, 
etc. 

— Book  IV,  Line  9S5. 
Pause  after  2nd  foot. 

On  his  right 
The  radiant  image  of  his  glory  sat. 

His  on  I  ly  Son:  X  on  earth  he  first  beheld,  etc. 

Book  III,  Line  64. 
Pause  after  jrdfoot. 

On   to   their  mornings  rural  work  they  haste. 

Among  I  sweet  dews  |  and  flowers,  X  where  any  row,  etc. 

Book  V,  Line  212. 
Pause  after  4th  foot. 

So  under  fiery  cope  together  rushed 
Both  battles  main,  with  ruinous  assault 

And  in  |  extin  |  guisha|ble  rage  X  all  heaven,  etc. 

— Book  \T,  Line  217. 

4.   Unrhymed  Verse 

As  intimated  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  not  all 
unrhymed  poems  can  justly  be  called  blank  verse,  which, 


138  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

as  we  have  said,  is  a  heroic  measure.     Some  are  lyrics, 
like  the  following: 

Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what  they  mean, 
Tears  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  despair 
Rise  in  the  heart,  and  gather  to  the  eyes, 
In  looking  on  the  happy  autumn-fields. 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more. 

— ^Tennyson,  The  Princess. 

I  have  had  playmates,  I  have  had  companions 

In  my  days  of  childhood,  in  my  joyful  school-days; 

All,  all  are  gone,  the  old  familiar  faces. 

— Lamb,  The  Old  Familiar  Faces. 

Browning's  "One  Word  More"  is  in  unrhymed,  trochaic 
verse  and  its  effect  is  IjTical. 

There  they  are,  my  fifty  men  and  women 
Naming  me  the  fifty  poems  finished! 
Take  them,  Love,  the  book  and  me  together; 
Where  the  heart  lies,  let  the  brain  lie  also. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

I.  Name  an  advantage  that  blank  verse  holds  over 
rhymed  verse. 

2.  What  special  fault  is  most  likely  to  creep  into 
blank  verse? 

3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  ccesura? 

4.  From  Milton,  pick  out  at  least  six  examples  of 
its  use. 


BLANK  VERSE  I39 

5.  Need  blank  verse  be  always  in  iambic  meter? 

6.  Would  the  meter  of  Hiawatha  be  properly  classed 
as  blank  verse? 

7.  Do  you  find  equal  enjoyment  in  reading  blank 
verse  and  rhymed  iambic  verse? 

8.  Can  you  name  a  modern  drama,  written  in  blank 
verse,  that  has  won  popularity? 

9.  How  does  blank  verse  differ  from  the  unrhymed 
l)rric? 

10.  Write  in  blank  verse  a  short  description  of  the 
country  near  your  home. 

11.  Select  a  narrative  prose  passage  of  distinction 
and  recast  it  into  epical  blank  verse. 

12.  Tell  a  short-story  in  epical  blank  verse.    Introduce 
the  pause  for  both  practice  and  effect. 


CHAPTER  XV 

DRAMATIC    POETRY 

So  many  things  among  men  have  been  handed  down  from 
century  to  century  and  from  nation  to  nation,  and  the  human 
mind  is  in  general  so  slow  to  invent,  that  originality  in  any 
department  of  mental  exertion  is  everywhere  a  rare  phenomenon. 
We  are  desirous  of  seeing  the  result  of  the  efforts  of  inventive 
geniuses  when,  regardless  of  what  in  the  same  line  has  elsewhere 
been  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection,  they  set  to  work  in 
good  earnest  to  invent  altogether  for  themselves;  when  they 
lay  the  foundation  of  the  new  edifice  on  uncovered  ground,  and 
draw  all  the  preparations,  all  the  building  materials,  from  their 
own  resources.  We  participate,  in  some  measure,  in  the  joy  of 
success,  when  we  see  them  advance  rapidly  from  their  first 
helplessness  and  need  to  a  finished  mastery  in  their  art. 

— A.  W.  VON  ScHLEGEL,  Dramatic  Art  and  Literature. 

The  subject  of  dramatic  poetry  would  require  a  volume 
in  itself,  yet  only  a  brief  treatment  can  be  accorded  it  here. 

Although  English  dramas  have  been  written  in  rhyme, 
the  loftiest  and  most  dignified  meter  for  Enghsh  dramatic 
poetry  is  blank  verse.  But  the  blank  verse  of  drama 
necessarily  differs  in  several  respects  from  that  of  the 
epic.  The  epic,  as  lofty  narrative,  relates  what  has  hap- 
pened, and  what  certain  characters  did  and  said;  its 
style  therefore  must  be  stately  and  uniform.  Drama, 
upon  the  other  hand,  is  not  narrative,  but  shows  us  what 
is  happening,  and  the  characters  present  themselves  to 
us  by  what  they  say;  for  this  reason  the  style  of  dramatic 


DRAMATIC  POETRY  I4I 

blank  verse  must  be  more  realistic  and  varied  than  that 
of  heroic  poetry. 

It  would  not  do  to  have  Caliban,  the  brutish  monster 
in  Shakespeare's  drama  of  "The  Tempest,"  talk  like 
Miranda,  the  young  and  beautiful  heroine  of  the  same 
play.    Listen  to  Caliban: 

All  the  infections  that  the  sun  sucks  up 

From  bogs,  fens,  flats,  on  Prosper  fall,  and  make  him 

By  inch-meal  a  disease! 

— The  Tempest,  Act  II,  Scene  II. 

Miranda's  speeches,  on  the  contrary,  are  full  of  grace 
and  charm: 

I  do  not  know 
One  of  my  sex;    no  woman's  face  remember 
Save,  from  my  glass,  mine  own,  nor  have  I  seen 
More  that  I  may  call  men,  than  you,  good  friend, 
And  my  dear  father. 

— The  Tempest,  Act  III,  Scene  I. 

More  latitude  and  irregularity  are  also  allowable  in  the 
blank  verse  of  drama  than  in  that  of  the  epic.  Here, 
however,  a  word  of  caution  is  needed: 

We  must  insist  on  the  points  made  in  the  chapter  on 
Irregularities:  that  irregularities  should  proceed  from 
the  nature  of  the  subject  itself  and  not  from  any  weakness 
of  the  poet;  and  that  the  thought  must  mould  the  form 
if  the  form  is  to  enhance  the  thought. 

But  some  latitude,  we  have  said,  is  allowable.  For 
instance,  a  drama  may  be  interspersed  with  lyrical  pas- 


142  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

sages.  In  "The  Tempest,"  Ariel,  the  dainty  spirit,  not 
only  sings  several  songs  but  in  one  place  speaks  in  a 
rhymed  lyrical  measure: 

Before  you  can  say  Come  and  Go, 
And  breathe  twice ;  and  cry,  So,  So; 
Each  one,  tripping  on  his  toe. 
Will  be  here  with  mop  and  mowe: 
Do  you  love  me,  master?    No? 

— Act  IV,  Scene  I. 

A  poetic  drama  may  also  be  interspersed  with  prose 
passages,  a  thing  which  would  be  quite  impossible  in  an 
epic.  Shakespeare's  scenes  of  buffoonery  are  often  written 
in  prose. 

The  Dramatic  Pause,  a  virtuous  irregularity,  which 
drops  a  syllable,  may  be  used  when  the  necessary 
rhetorical  pause  after  an  exclamation  by  a  speaker  would 
fill  out  the  line. 

I  think  I   hear  them — Standi   who's   there? 

— Hamlet,  Act  I,  Scene  I. 

Here  the  actor  pauses  to  listen  after  the  words  "hear 
them."  He  pauses  again  after  the  exclamation  "Standi" 
and  these  two  pauses  fill  out  the  time  of  the  line. 

Again,  the  dramatic  pause  may  be  used  when  the 
thought  or  emotion  requires  a  pause.  Bernardo,  in  the 
first  scene  of  "Hamlet,"  relates  his  encounter  with  the 
ghost  and  says: 


DRAMATIC  POETRY  I43 

When  yon  same  star,  that's  westward  from  the  pole, 
Had  made  his  course  to  illimie  that  part  of  heaven 
Where  now  it  bums,  Marcellus,  and  myself, 
The  bell  then  beating  one, — 

and  Marcellus  exclaims, 

Peace,  break  thee  oft,    look,  where  it  comes  again! 

— Act  I,  Scene  I. 

Here  one  speaker  interrupts  the  other  and  the  line  is 
left  broken  off. 

For  Hecuba! 
What's  Hecuba  to  him  or  he  to  Hecuba, 
That  he  should  weep  for  her? 

— Hamlet,  Act  II,  Scene  II. 

Here  the  speaker  pauses  to  consider  his  thought  and 
the  thought  is  emphasized  by  the  pause. 

Feminine  Endings,  or  double  endings,  constitute  an- 
other variant  used  in  dramatic  blank  verse.  It  is  a  species 
of  irregularity  whereby  an  extra  syllable  is  added  at  the 
end  of  each  line  when  it  would  normally  end  without  it. 

Let's  dry  our  eyes  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Crom  [  well; 
And, — when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  |  be; 
And  sleep  in  dull  cold  marble,  where  no  men  |  tion 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of, — say  I  taught  |  thee. 

— King  Henry  VIII,  Act  III,  Scene  II. 

Light  Endings  are  those  which  terminate  with  personal 
and  relative  pronouns,  or  auxiliaries,  such  as  /,  they,  thou, 


144  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

am,  are,  be,   can,  which  admit  of  being  followed  by  a 
slight  pause. 

But  0,  how  oddly  will  it  sound  that  I 
Must  ask  my  child  forgiveness! 

— The  Tempest,  Act  V,  Scene  I. 

Weak  Endings  are  prepositions  and  conjunctions  like 
for,  from,  if,  of,  or,  which  allow  no  pause  after  them. 

—"for 
In  those  unfledged  days  was  my  wife  a  girl." 

— A  W interns  Tale,  Act  I,  Scene  II. 

End-Stopped  Lines,  in  dramatic  blank  verse,  are  those 
which  are  complete  in  themselves,  and  which  terminate, 
therefore,  either  with  a  considerable  pause  or  as  a  complete 
sentence.  In  Shakespeare's  early  plays  we  find  that  his 
thought  had  a  tendency  to  be  bound  by  the  unit  of 
the  line,  as  was  the  case  with  the  blank  verse  of  Surrey, 
and  we  therefore  find  a  much  larger  proportion  of  end- 
stopped  lines  in  his  earlier  than  in  his  later  plays. 

Now,  madam,  summon  up  your  dearest  spirits; 
Consider  who  the  king  your  father  sends; 
To  whom  he  sends;    and  what's  his  embassy: 

— Love's  Labor's  Lost,  Act  II,  Scene  I. 

Run-On  Lines  are  those  in  which  the  sense  is  carried  on 
without  pause  to  the  succeeding  lines,  the  sentence  run- 
ning, therefore,  to  its  logical  close. 


DRAMATIC    POETRY  I45 

Invest  me  in  my  motley;   give  me  leave 

To  speak  my  mind,  and  I  will  through  and  through 

Cleanse  the  foul  body  of  the  infected  world. 

—As  You  Like  It,  Act  II,  Scene  VII. 

Shakespeare  will  remain  the  English  mine  of  wealth 
for  the  student  of  the  poetic  drama,  yet  no  student  of 
blank  verse  can  afford  to  neglect  Milton.  For  varied 
specimens  of  the  beautiful  use  of  this  meter,  let  him  read 
Keats's  "Hyperion,"  Shelley's  "Prometheus  Unbound,'' 
Wordsworth's  "Tintern  Abbey,"  Tennyson's  "Idyls  of 
the  King,"  and  "Ulysses,"  and  Browning's  "The  Ring 
and  the  Book." 

As  for  present-day  progress  in  the  poetic  drama,  the 
recent  notable  revival  of  interest  in  a  domain  of  poetry 
which  so  long  remained  unattempted,  is  a  significant  and 
encouraging  fact,  the  dramas  of  Mr.  Stephen  Phillips 
being  especially  noble  efforts  in  a  high  cause,  and  well 
worthy  of  study. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  In  what  respects  does  blank  verse  in  the  drama 
differ  from  that  in  the  epic? 

2.  Write  a  few  lines  in  blank  verse,  introducing 
exclamations,  questions  and  invectives,  and  experiment 
with  pauses  of  different  duration,  noting  the  increased 
or  decreased  emphasis,  and  the  effect  upon  the  rhythm. 

3.  What  constitutes  a  weak  ending  to  a  line? 

4.  Is  a  weak  ending  ever  desirable? 


146  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

5.  Why  are  many  consecutive  end-stopped  lines  to 
be  avoided? 

6.  Make  a  list  of  as  many  varieties  of  dramatic 
blank-verse  couplets  as  you  can,  giving  examples  of  each. 
Any  group  of  two  lines  will  serve  as  a  couplet  for  this 
purpose. 

7.  Using  only  a  summary,  like  Lamb's  "Tales  from 
Shakespeare, "  write  one  of  the  speeches  made  by  a  leading 
character  in  one  of  the  Comedies,  using  about  twenty 
lines.     Follow  Shakespeare's  meter. 

8.  Do  the  same  for  one  of  the  tragedies. 

9.  Recast  one  of  these,  using  at  least  half  end-stopped 
lines. 

10.  From  Shakespeare,  give  examples  of  all  the  char- 
acteristics of  dramatic  blank  verse  referred  to  in  this 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   ODE 

From  the  time  of  Drummond  of  Hawthomden  to  our  own, 
some  of  the  noblest  flights  of  English  poetry  have  been  taken  on 
the  wings  of  this  verse;  but  with  ordinary  readers  it  has  been 
more  or  less  discredited  by  the  far  greater  number  of  abortive 
efforts,  on  the  part  sometimes  of  considerable  poets,  to  adapt 
it  to  purposes  with  which  it  has  no  expressional  correspondence; 
or  to  vary  it  by  rhythmical  movements  which  are  destructive 
of  its  character. 
— Coventry  ^Patmore,  Prefatory  Note  to  The  Unknown  Eros. 

Perhaps  no  form  of  verse  has  suffered  more  at  the  hands 
of  English  poets  than  the  ode.  The  Greek  Pindaric  ode, 
— the  ode  made  famous  by  Pindar — was  intended  to  be 
accompanied  by  music  and  dancing,  and  the  poet  who 
wrote  the  words  usually  composed  the  music  too.  The 
Pindaric  ode  was  divided  into  strophe,  antistrophe,  and 
epode.  The  strophe  and  antistrophe  were  always  identical 
in  structure  and  were  sung  to  the  same  tune;  in  the 
strophe  the  chorus  moved  from  a  given  spot  on  the  stage 
to  the  right;  in  the  antistrophe  they  moved  to  the  left, 
thus  retracing  their  steps.  The  epode  varied  from  the  other 
two  sections,  both  in  choral  movement  and  in  music,  and 
was  sung  by  the  chorus  standing  still.  Ben  Jonson  in- 
troduced the  Pindaric  ode  into  England  and  carefully 
followed  the  classical  form,  although  he  found  few  imita- 
tors.    We  give   the   following  interesting   and   curious 


148  -     THE  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

example  by  Ben  Jonson  (1629).     As  will  be  seen,  its 
several  parts  are  of  unequal  merit. 

A  Pindaric  Ode  on  the  Death  of  Sir  H.  Morison 

The  Strophe,  or  Turn 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 

In  bulk,  doth  make  men  better  be; 
Or  standing  long  an  oak,  three  hundred  year, 
To  fall  a  log  at  last,  dry,  bald,  and  sear. 

A  lily  of  a  day 

Is  fairer  far,  in  May, 
Although  it  fall  and  die  that  night; 
It  was  the  plant  and  flower  of  light, 
In  small  proportions  we  just  beauties  see;. 
And  in  short  measures  life  may  perfect  be. 

The  Antistrophe,  or  Counter-turn 

Call,  noble  Lucius,  then  for  wine,  • 

And  let  thy  looks  with  gladness  shine; 
Accept  this  garland,  plant  it  on  thy  head, 
And  think,  nay  know,  thy  Morison's  not  dead. 
He  leap'd  the  present  age, 
Possess'd  with  holy  rage, 

To  see  that  bright  eternal  day; 

Of  which  we  priests  and  poets  say 
Such  truths  as  we  expect  for  happy  men: 
And  there  he  lives  with  memory,  and  Ben. 


THE   ODE  149 

The  Epode,  or  Stand 

Jonson,  who  sung  this  of  him,  ere  he  went, 

Himself,  to  rest. 
Or  taste  a  part  of  that  full  joy  he  meant 
To  have  express'd, 

In  this  bright  asterism! — 

Where  it  were  friendship's  schism, 
Were  not  his  Lucius  long  with  us  to  tarry. 

To  separate  these  twi- 

Lights,  the  Dioscuri 
And  keep  the  one  half  from  his  Harry. 
But  fate  doth  so  alternate  the  design, 
Whilst  that  in  heaven,  this  light  on  earth  must  shine. 

Gray's  "Progress  of  Poesy"  and  "The  Bard"  follow 
the  regular  Pindaric  form. 

Cowley  introduced  what  he  called  Pindaric  odes,  but 
he  misunderstood  the  Greek  structure,  for  he  and  his 
many  imitators  seemed  to  think  that  an  ode  consisted 
in  a  bombastic  poem  with  lines  of  irregular  length,  and 
rhymes  at  irregular  intervals;  but  even  in  spite  of  this 
license  he  complains  of  the  diflEiculties  of  the  form  and 
compares  it  to  a  Pegasus  who 

"will  no  unskilful  touch  endure. 
But  flings  writer  and  reader  too  that  sits  not  sure." 

Another  class  of  odes  is  imitated  from  the  choral  odes 
of  the  Greek  drama. 

Edmund  Gosse  says  that  the  ode  is  "Any  strain  of 


150  THE  ART   OF  VERSIFICATION 

enthusiastic  and  exalted  lyrical  verse,  directed  to  a  fixed 
purpose,  and  dealing  progressively  with  one  dignified 
theme."  The  lines  are  iambic,  of  varying  length,  and 
"the  License  to  rhyme  at  indefinite  intervals  is  coimter- 
balanced  by  unusual  frequency  in  the  recurrence  of  the 
same  rhyme. "  The  varying  length  of  line  should  indicate 
the  changing  feeling  of  the  poem,  the  deeper  and  severer 
portions  being  written  in  the  longer  lines,  the  lighter 
thoughts  in  the  shorter  meters. 

Wordworth's  "Ode  on  Intimations  of  Immortality"  is 
considered  the  noblest  English  example  of  the  irregiilar 
form.  We  give  the  opening  stanza,  but  the  whole  ode  should 
be  read  and  studied,  particularly  for  the  appropriateness 
of  its  varying  meters. 

There  was  a  time  when  meadow,  grove  and  stream. 
The  earth,  and  every  common  sight 

To  me  did  seem 
Apparell'd  in  celestial  light, 
The  glory  and  the  freshness  of  a  dream. 
It  is  not  now  as  it  has  been  of  yore, — 
Turn  wheresoe'er  I  may. 
By  night  or  day. 
The  things  which  I  have  seen  I  now  can  see  no  more ! 

Read  in  this  connection  Dryden's  "Song  for  Saint 
Cecilia's  Day,"  and  "Alexander's  Feast;"  and  Tenny- 
son's "Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington." 

There  is  a  large  group  of  very  beautiful  so-called  odes 
in  English,  which  are  really  lofty  lyrics  with  a  regular 


THE   ODE  151 

stanzaic  form.  Such  are  Wordsworth's  "Ode  to  Duty," 
Shelley's  "Ode  to  the  West  Wind,"  and  the  odes  of  Keats, 
notably  the  "Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn"  and  "Ode  to  the 
Nightingale. " 

An  ode  should  be  noble  in  theme  and  treatment,  stately 
without  pedantry,  beautiful  without  redundant  orna- 
ment. It  should  be  a  sustained  flight  at  a  high  altitude, 
and  it  is  perhaps  not  to  be  regretted,  in  view  of  these 
requirements,  that  the  form  is  somewhat  out  of  fashion, 
for  a  commonplace  ode  is  the  most  banal  and  unnecessary 
of  productions. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Is  an  ode  in  your  opinion  the  most  dignified 
vehicle  for  the  expression  of  exalted  thought?  Give  your 
reasons. 

2.  What  is  a  strophe?     Explain  its  origin. 

3.  Could  an  ode  be  properly  written  in  trochaic 
verse? 

4.  By  what  marks  do  you  recognize  an  ode? 

5.  Name  a  good  ode  not  mentioned  in  this  chapter. 

6.  Analyze  it  for  subject  matter. 

7.  Analyze  it  for  form. 

8.  Does  an  ode  ever  embody  an  epic  tale? 

9.  Give  two  original  subjects  for  odes. 

10.  Write  the  beginning  of  an  ode  in  irregular  form 
upon  a  theme  that  seems  to  you  suitable  to  be  cast  in  that 
form. 

Note:  Exercise  10  may  be  expanded  at  will  so  as  to  include  a 
completed  ode. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   BALLAD 

The  narrative  of  the  communal  ballad  is  full  of  leaps  and 
omissions;  the  style  is  simple  to  a  fault ;  the  diction  is  spontane- 
ous and  free.  Assonance  frequently  takes  the  place  of  rhyme, 
and  a  word  often  rhymes  with  itself.  There  is  a  lack  of  poetic 
adornment  in  the  style  quite  as  conspicuous  as  the  lack  of  reflec- 
tion and  moralizing  in  the  matter.  Metaphor  and  simile  are 
rare  and  when  found  are  for  the  most  part  standing  phrases 
common  to  all  the  ballads;  there  is  never  poetry  for  poetry's 
sake. — F.  B.  Gummere,  The  Ballad,   Warner  Library. 

The  ballad  originally  was  a  narrative  poem  in  lyric 
form  with  no  known  individual  authorship,  having  been 
preserved  to  us  by  oral  tradition.  As  a  poetic  form  it  is 
well  worth  studying,  not  alone  for  its  narrative  and  poetic 
interest  but  for  its  vigor,  picturesque  quality,  and  spontan- 
eity. The  true  ballad,  of  course,  is  a  finished  chapter,  but 
modern  imitations  now  and  then  appear. 

The  ballad-meter  of  England  and  Scotland  was  taken 
in  imitation  from  the  septenary,  a  rhymed  Latin  hymn 
meter  of  seven  feet,  or  accents.  Ballads  therefore  were 
originally  written  in  long  lines,  as  in  the  following,  which 
has  been  slightly  modernized  in  spelling: 

The  Ancient  Ballad  of  Chevy  Chase 

The  Perse  out  of  Northumberlande,  and  a  vowe  to  God 
mayde  he 


THE   BALLAD  153 

That  he  wolde  hunte  m  the  mountayns  of  Chyviat  within 
days  three. 

These  long  lines,  technically  known  as  fourteens  as 
they  often  numbered  fourteen  syllables,  were  afterwards 
broken  up  into  stanzas  of  four  short  lines  of  iambic 
tetrameter  alternated  with  trimeter,  which  accounts  for 
the  two  unrhymed  lines  in  our  modern  versions. 

Fair  Annie  of  Lochroyan 

Tak'  down,  tak'  down,  the  mast  o'  goud; 

Set  up  the  mast  o'  tree; 
111  sets  it  a  forsaken  lady 

To  sail  sae  gallantlie. 

Tak'  down,  tak'  down,  the  sails  o'  silk; 

Set  up  the  sails  o'  skin; 
111  sets  the  outside  to  be  gay, 

Whan  there 's  sic  grief  within ! 

This  now  forms  our  modern  ballad  measure.  It 
must  be  noted,  however,  that  the  iambus  is  often  freely 
mingled  with  other  feet,  chiefly  the  anapaest,  so  that  it  is 
not  always  easy  to  scan  the  ballad  in  iambic  feet. 

Ballad  poetry  makes  effective  use  of  repetition  and 
contrast  as  is  shown  in  the  above  example. 

One  of  the  most  dramatic  of  the  old  ballads  is  the  grue- 
some "Edward,  Edward,"  a  dialogue  between  mother 
and  son  in  which  the  mother  finally  worms  from  the 
young  man  the  admission  that  he  has  killed  his  father  at 
her  instigation. 


154  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Quhy  dois  zour  brand  sae  drop  wi  bluid, 
Edward,  Edward? 
Quhy  dois  zour  brand  sae  drop  wi  bluid 
And  quhy  sae  sad  gang  zee  O? 
0,  I  hae  kill'd  my  hauke  sae  guid, 

Mither,  Mither, 
O,  I  hae  kill'd  my  hauke  sae  guid, 
And  I  had  nae  mair  bot  hee,  O. 

Ballads,  like  all  folk  poetry,  make  large  use  of  the 
refrain,  or  burden.  They  were  chanted  or  "lilted"  by 
one  person,  and  the  recurrent  refrain  gave  opportunity 
for  the  bystanders  to  join  in  the  chorus.  Sometimes  it 
referred  to  the  subject  of  the  ballad  and  sometimes  it  did 
not.  This  feature  has  been  successfully  imitated  in  the 
ballads  of  some  modern  poets.  Rossetti,  a  true  lover  of 
the  ballad  form,  uses  three  refrains  in  "Sister  Helen." 
Elingsley  uses  an  irregular  refrain  in  "The  Sands  of  Dee. " 
Macaulay,  in  his  spirited  "Ivry, "  uses  the  character- 
istic ballad  repetition. 

A  thousand  spurs    are    striking    deep,  a    thousand 

spears  in  rest, 
A  thousand  knights  are  pressing    close    behind    the 

snow-white  crest. 

The  fact  that  a  thousand  knights  would  have  two 
thousand  spurs,  does  not  impair  the  vigor  of  the  verse. 
The  recurrence  of  the  words,  "King  Henry  of  Navarre" 
at  the  end  of  each  stanza  has  the  effect  of  a  refrain. 


THE   BALLAD  1 55 

In  this  connection,  study  some  of  the  great  chants  of 
the  Bible,  like  "The  Song  of  Moses  and  the  Children  of 
Israel,"  in  the  15th  chapter  of  Exodus,  where  Miriam 
sings  the  refrain: 

"Sing  ye  to  the  Lord,  for  he  hath  triumphed  gloriously; 
the  horse  and  his  rider  hath  he  thrown  into  the  sea;" 

and  the  Song  of  Deborah  (Judges  V),  the  Song  of  Hannah 
(I  Samuel  II),  and  its  echo  in  the  Magnificat.  (St. 
Luke:  "1:46.) 

Tennyson's  "Lady  Clare,"  and  Longfellow's  "Wreck 
of  the  Hesperus,"  are  beautiful  examples  of  the  modern 
ballad,  and  Kipling  has  breathed  new  life  into  the  old 
form  in  many  a  spirited  poem. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  How  many  metrical  feet  compose  the  usual  ballad 
line? 

2.  How  does  any  ballad  you  may  select  differ  from  a 
selected  short-story? 

3.  Tell  the  story  of  an  old  English  ballad  in  a  brief 
prose  paragraph. 

4.  Select  a  short-story  and  narrate  it  in  ballad  form. 
Be  careful  to  adopt  a  suitable  meter. 

5.  Give  three  themes  suitable  for  modern  ballads — 
these  themes  need  not  be  original,  but  may  be  suggested 
by  current  stories. 

6.  Write  the  prose  outline  for  a  short  ballad,  using 
some  current  event  of  romantic  interest. 


156  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

7.  Take  an  episode  from  Homer  or  Virgil^  and  recast 
it  in  ballad  form. 

8.  How  would  you  account  for  the  fact  that  the  fimc- 
tions  of  the  early  ballad  are  now  nearly  always  entrusted 
to  prose  narrative? 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   LYRIC 

However  skilled  the  singer,  quality  and  charm  are  inborn. 
Something  of  them,  therefore,  always  graces  the  folk-songs  of 
a  peasantry,  the  ballads  and  songs,  let  us  say,  of  Ireland  and 
Scotland.    Theirs  is  the  wilding  flavor  which  Lowell  detects: — 

"Sometimes  it  is 
A  leafless  wilding  shivering  by  the  wall; 
But  I  have  known  when  winter  barberries 
Pricked  the  effeminate  palate  with  surprise 
Of  savor  whose  mere  harshness  seemed  divine." 

When  to  this  the  artist-touch  is  added,  then  the  wandering, 
uncapturable  movement  of  the  pure  lyric — more  beautiful  for 
its  breaks  and  studied  accidentals  and  most  effective  discords — 
is  ravishing  indeed:  at  last  you  have  the  poet's  poetry  that  is 
supernal.  Its  pervading  quintessence  is  like  the  sheen  of  flame 
upon  a  glaze  in  earth  or  metal.  Form,  color,  sound,  unite  and 
in  some  mysterious  way  become  lambent  with  delicate  or  im- 
passioned meaning.  Here  beauty  is  most  intense.  Charm  is 
the  expression  of  its  expression,  the  measureless  under-vibration, 
the  thrill  within  the  thrill.  We  catch  from  its  suggestion  the 
very  impulse  of  the  lyrist;  we  are  given  the  human  tone,  the 
light  of  the  eye,  the  play  of  feature, — all,  in  fine,  which  shows 
the  poet  in  the  poem  and  makes  it  his  and  not  another's. — - 
Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  The  Nature  and  Elements  oj  Poetry. 

A  lyric  originally  meant  a  song  fit  to  be  sung  to  the 
accompaniment  of  a  lyre,  but  in  modern  usage  it  has 
come  to  have  a  broader  meaning,  for  many  lyrics  are  not 
songs  at  all.     The  lyric  may  be  defined  as  any  short, 


158  THE  ART  OF   VERSLFICATION 

spontaneous  personal  poem  which  is  musical  in  form  and 
expressive  of  a  single  complete  idea. 

The  several  points  of  this  definition  will  need  some 
explanation  and  illustration. 

Characteristics  of  the  Lyric 

Brevity. — Poe  probably  had  the  lyric  in  mind  when 
he  made  his  famous  dictum  that  there  could  not  be  a 
good  long  poem.  Certainly  it  would  be  tiresome  to  pro- 
long a  personal  poetic  expression,  and  impossible  to  do 
so  were  the  IjTic  properly  confined  to  a  highly  unified 
theme.  In  nothing  do  yoimg  poets  err  more  than  in 
allowing  their  productions  too  great  a  length.  For  the 
purpose  of  determining  current  usage,  it  is  decidedly 
worth  while  to  make  a  careful  study  of  the  six  or  eight 
magazines  which  seek  to  print  the  best  verse  obtainable 
— and  to  keep  well  within  the  average  length,  which  will 
be  found  to  lie  somewhere  near  sixteen  lines. 

Spontaneity  and  Personality. — As  illustrating  particu- 
larly these  joint  qualities,  examine  the  following  verses  by 
Sir  Richard  Lovelace.  They  have  been  called  a  perfect 
lyric. 

To  LucASTA,  ON  Going  to  the  Wars 

Tell  me  not,  Sweet,  I  am  unkind 

That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind, 

To  war  and  arms  I  flee. 


THE   LYRIC  159 

True,  a  new  mistress  now  I  chase, 

The  first  foe  in  the  field; 
And  with  a  stronger  faith  embrace 

A  sword,  a  horse,  a  shield. 

Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such 

As  you  too  shall  adore ; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  Dear,  so  much, 

Loved  I  not  Honor  more. 

Louise  Imogen  Guiney,  herself  a  lyric  poet  of  sweetness 
and  power,  in  her  "Footnote  to  a  Famous  Lyric"  sings 
of  the  foregoing  poem: 

And  till  your  strophe  sweet  and  bold, 

So  lovely  aye,  so  lonely  long, 
Love's  self  outdo,  dear  Lovelace!  hold 

The  pinnacles  of  song. 

Lovelace's  charming  lyric  is  not  only  supposed  to 
express  the  author's  personal  feelings,  but  it  expresses 
them  in  such  a  spontaneous  manner  as  to  make  the  poem 
seem  an  impremeditated  outburst  of  the  heart.  And 
indeed  such  has  been  the  origin  of  many  famous  lyrics. 
In  thinking  of  this  most  popular  type  of  poetry  this  point 
must  not  be  obscured — the  lyric  is,  really  or  apparently, 
a  spontaneous  expression  of  one's  self,  just  as  dramatic 
poetry  is  an  expression  of  the  souls  of  others. 

Musical  Quality. — What  other  forms  so  ever  may  be 
rough  and  irregular,  the  prosperity  of  the  lyric  lies  so 
largely  in  its  melodious  flow  that  music  has  fixed  its  very 
name. 


l6o  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

After  our  studies  thus  far,  it  will  be  patent  that  the 
musical  qualities  of  the  lyric  live  in  a  collocation  of  smooth- 
sounding  words,  grouped  in  lines  of  flowing  rhythm — 
that  is,  pleasing  sounds  in  pleasing  motion. 

Tennyson  greatly  admired  the  music  of  Burns's  lyric 
quoted  below,  and  said  he  wished  that  he  had  written  it. 

My  Heart's  in  the  Highlands 

My  heart's  in  the  Highlands,  my  heart  is  not  here, 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands    a-chasing    the    deer, 
Chasing  the  wild  deer  and  following  the  roe. 
My  heart's  in  the  Highlands  wherever  I  go. 

Though  the  lyric  must  be  musical,  it  need  not  neces- 
sarily be  rhymed.  This  Tennyson  proved  in  his  famous 
songs  in  "The  Princess":  "Come  down  0  maid,"  "Now 
sleeps  the  crimson  petal,  now  the  white,"  "O  Swallow, 
Swallow,"  and  the  following: 

Tears,  Idle  Tears 

Tears,  idle  tears,  I  know  not  what  they  mean. 
Tears  from  the  depth  of  some  divine  despair 
Rise  in  the  heart,  and  gather  to  the  eyes. 
In  looking  on  the  happy  autumn  fields, 
And  thinking  of  the  days  that  are  no  more. 

Lamb's  "The  Old,  Familiar  Faces,"  is  another  beauti- 
ful example  of  the  unrhymed  lyric. 

Unity. — A  careful  examination  of  the  lyrical  verse 
thus  far  quoted  will  be  enough  to  show  how  unified  and 


THE  LRYIC  l6l 

complete  the  lyric  must  be.    To  introduce  complexity  is 
to  deprive  it  of  one  of  its  charms — simplicity. 

A  good  lyric  is  probably  the  most  exquisite  and  poignant 
example  of  the  poet's  art,  but  although  it  is  difficult  to 
write  good  ones,  it  is  unfortunately  only  too  easy  to  write 
bad  ones.  Perhaps,  though,  it  is  not  really  difficult  to 
write  good  ones, but  rather,  as  Victor  Hugo  said,  ''Either 
very  easy,  or  impossible." 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

Note:  The  student  should  copy  or  clip  from  books  and 
magazines  and  daily  papers  lyrics  that  appeal  to  him,  collecting 
them  in  a  scrap  book  for  study  and  reference.  Memorize  the 
best  lyrics  of  Shakespeare,  Lovelace,  Shelley,  Keats,  Burns  and 
other  masters  of  the  art.  Later,  give  attention  to  present-day 
lyrists. 

1.  Put  in  writing  your  own  definition  of  a  lyric. 

2.  What  is   the   radical   difference   between   lyrical 
and  dramatic  poetry? 

3.  Name  a  lyric  that  you  are  fond  of  and,  so  far  as 
possible,  analyze  its  charm  for  you. 

4.  Write — with  all  the  care  possible — lyrics  upon 
variations  of  the  new-old  themes  of  love,  and  springtide 
joy,  striving  to  make  each  poem  definite  and  simple, 
and  do  not  nm  the  gamut  of  the  passions  within  the  limits 
of  a  single  lyric.  Keep  your  lyric  short,  and  when  you 
have  polished  it  until  you  see  no  fault  in  it,  put  it  away 
and  forget  it — later,  begin  the  process  of  polishing  anew. 

5.  Make  a  list  of  three  original  lyric  themes. 

6.  Select  one,  and  write  a  lyric.    Aim  at  compression 
and  perfection,  writing  quickly  under  inspiration,   but 


l62  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

labor  on  it  later  with  the  patience  of  a  diamond  cutter. 
A  lyric  should  not  be  considered  finished  until  the  change 
of  any  single  word  would  mar  it.  Remember  this  impor- 
tant injunction:  do  not  allow  yourself  to  use  a  single  irregu- 
larity unless  you  do  so  purposely,  with  a  view  to  added  effec- 
tiveness.   Irregularities  that  you  "can't  help"  are  defects. 

7.  Name  six  themes,  not  necessarily  original,  that 
seem  to  you  to  fuse  naturally  into  lyric  form. 

8.  Do  any  of  the  following  themes  lend  themselves 
to  lyrical  utterance?  Which  do  not?  Say  why:  Love, 
Friendship,  Hate,  Joy,  Despair,  Faith,  Music,  Memories 
of  Home. 

9.  Take  two  of  the  foregoing  themes  and  by  narrowing 
them,  that  is,  by  limiting  them  to  a  single  and  personally 
important  phase,  formulate  lyrical  themes. 

10.  Name  three  themes  that  would  seem  ill  suited 
for  lyrical  treatment. 

11.  Write  a  lyric  upon  a  theme  of  fire — the  phase 
that  most  appeals  to  you,  as  the  Camp-fire,  or  the  Sun, 
limiting  it  to  sixteen  lines. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   SONNET 

It  is  generally  agreed  that  sonnet  is  an  abreviation  of  the 
Italian  sonnetto,  a  short  strain  (literally,  a  little  sound),  that 
word  being  the  diminutive  of  5mo«o  =  sound.  The  sonnetto  was 
originally  a  poem  recited  with  sound,  that  is,  with  a  musical 
accompaniment,  a  short  poem  of  the  rispetto  kind,  sung  to  the 
strains  of  lute  or  mandolin. 

— William  Sharp,  Sonnets  of  This  Century. 

The  sonnet  is  an  Italian  form  of  verse  consisting  of  a 
poem  of  fourteen  lines,  the  arrangement  of  which  is  gov- 
erned by  artificial  and  arbitrary'  rules.  It  appeared  in 
Italy  at  the  beginning  of  the  12th  Century,  and  the  laws 
then  formulated  for  its  composition  have  been  observed 
there  since  the  time  of  Petrarch  (14th  Century).  The 
form,  however,  was  not  used  in  England  until  the  reign 
of  Henry  the  Eighth,  in  the  second  century  succeeding, 
when  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  introduced  it  by  translating 
one  of  Petrarch's  sonnets  into  English.  Wyatt  left  some 
thirty- two  sonnets  and  all  but  one  followed  the  Italian 
model. 

Sonnet- writing  was  an  accomplishment  cultivated  by 
the  great  and  noble,  and  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey, 
and  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  were  the  next  two  English  sonnet- 
eers. Although  these  pioneers  were  familiar  with  the 
Italian  structure  of  inter-lacing  rhymes,  a  simpler  system 
crept  in  and  became  current,  but  this  contained  nothing 


164  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

of  the  Italian  sonnet-form  except  the  original  scheme  of 
fourteen  lines.  This  new  type  was  adopted  by  Shake- 
speare, who  set  the  seal  of  his  genius  upon  it.  Neverthe- 
less, the  so-called  English  or  Shakespearean  sonnet  is, 
strictly  speaking,  not  a  sonnet  at  all,  but  a  poem  com- 
posed of  three  quatrains  and  a  couplet.  The  beauty  of 
Shakespeare's  sonnets  consists,  not  in  their  rhyme-scheme, 
but  in  their  imagery  and  choice  of  words. 

Shall  I  compare  thee  to  a  summer's  day?  (a) 

Thou  art  more  lovely  and  more  temperate:  (b) 

Rough  winds  do  shake  the  darling  buds  of  May,  (a) 

And  summer's  lease  hath  all  too  short  a  date:  (b) 

Sometime  too  hot  the  eye  of  heaven  shines,  (c) 

And  often  is  his  gold  complexion  dimm'd:  (d) 

And  every  fair  from  fair  sometime  declines,  (c) 

By  chance,  or  Nature's  changing  course,  untrimm'd.  (d) 

But  thy  eternal  summer  shall  not  fade  (e) 

Nor  lose  possession  of  that  fair  thou  owest;  (f) 

Nor  shall  death  brag  thou  wanderest  in  his  shade,  (e) 

When  in  eternal  lines  to  time  thou  growest.  (f) 

So  long  as  men  can  breathe,  or  eyes  can  see,  (g) 

So  long  lives  this,  and  this  gives  life  to  thee.  (g) 

— Shakespeare. 

You  notice  in  the  foregoing  example,  the  arrangement 
of  three  quatrains,  or  four-line  stanzas,  each  containing 
two  rhymes,  and  the  final  couplet,  containing  one  rhyme 
making  a  fourth  division,  which  comes  like  an  epilogue 
or  a  commentary  on  what  has  gone  before.    The  Shake- 
spearean sonnet,  then,  contains  seven  rhymes. 


THE   SONNET  1 65 

Now  the  Petrarchian,  legitimate,  or  Italian  sonnet  is 
entirely  different.  It  contains  but  two  sections  instead 
of  four,  and  but  four,  or  at  most  five  rhymes,  instead  of 
seven;    nor  does  it  close  with  a  couplet. 

The  first  section  consists  of  eight  lines,  and  is  called 
the  octave.  It  has  but  two  rhymes,  which,  as  we  shall 
see,  vary  in  order  according  to  the  particular  sonnet- 
form. 

The  second  section  consists  of  six  lines,  and  is  called 
the  sestet.    It  may  have  either  two  or  three  rhymes. 

There  are  two  regular  ways  of  arranging  the  rhymes  of 
the  octave.  The  first  and  better  way  is  Enclosed  Rhyme, 
which  runs  a,  b,  b,  a,  a,  b,  b,  a,  and  is  illustrated  in 
Rossetti's  sonnet  on  page  167. 

The  other  arrangement  is  that  of  Alternate  Rhyme,  which 
runs  a,  b,  a,  b,  a,  b,  a,  b.    It  is  seldom  used. 

Sonnet    from  Astrophel   and  Stella  (before  1582?) 

Loving  in  truth,  and  fain  in  verse  my  love  to  show,  (a) 
That  she,  dear  she!  might  take  some  pleasure  of  my 

pain :  (b) 
Pleasure  might  cause  her  read,  reading  might  make 

her  know,  (a) 

Knowledge  might  pity  win,  and  pity  grace  obtain:  (b) 

I  sought  fit  words  to  paint  the  blackest  face  of  woe,  (a) 

Studying  inventions  fine,  her  wits  to  entertain:  (b) 
Oft  turning  others'  leaves,  to  see  if  thence  would  flow  (a) 
Some  fresh  and  fruitful  showers  upon  my  sun-burn'd 

brain.  (b) 


1 66  THE   ART   OF  VERSIFICATION 

But  words  came  halting  forth,  wanting  invention's 

stay;  (c) 

Invention,  nature's  child,  fled  step-dame  study's  blows  (d) 
And  others'  feet  seem'd  but  strangers  in  my  way.  (c) 
Thus,  great  with  child  to  speak,  and  helpless  in  my 

throes,  (d) 

Biting  my  truant  pen,  beating  myself  for  spite;  (e) 
Fool !  said  my  muse  to  me,  look  in  thy  heart,  and  write,  (e) 

— Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

The  sestet  of  this  sonnet  closes  with  a  couplet,  and 
so  does  not  follow  the  regular  Italian  form. 

The  octave  in  a  few  sonnets  is  rhymed  a,  b,  a,  b,  b,  a,  b,  a, 
but  this  is  an  exception.    The  following  is  a  good  example: 

Homeric  Unity 
The  sacred  keep  of  Ilion  is  rent  (a) 

With  shaft  and  pit;  vague  waters  wander  slow  (b) 
Through  plains  where  Simois  and  Scamander  went  (a) 

To  war  with  gods  and  heroes  long  ago :  (b) 

Not  yet  to  dark  Cassandra,  lying  low  (b) 

In  rich  Mycenae,  do  the  Fates  relent;  (a) 

The  bones  of  Agamemnon  are  a  show,  (b) 

And  ruined  is  his  royal  monument.  (a) 

The  awful  dust  and  treasures  of  the  Dead  (c) 

Has  Learning  scattered  wide;   but  vainly  thee,  (d) 

Homer,  she  measures  with  her  Lesbian  lead,  (c) 
And  strives  to  rend  thy  songs:   too  blind  is  she  (d) 

To  know  the  crown  on  thine  immortal  head  (c) 
Of  indivisible  supremacy.  (d) 

— Andrew  Lang. 


THE   SONNET  1 67 

In  the  arrangement  of  the  rhymes  of  the  sestet  more 
latitude  is  allowed,  though  the  most  usual  order  is  alternate 
rhyme,  c,  d,  c,  d,  c,  d,  if  two  rhymes  are  employed  as  in 
the  foregoing,  or  c,  d,  e,  c,  d,  e,  if  three  rhymes  are  used, 
as  in  Longfellow's  "A  Nameless  Grave,"  which  is  given 
farther  on. 

In  the  best  and  most  regular  models  there  is  a  definite 
division  both  of  sound  and  sense  at  the  end  of  the  octave, 
and  therefore  some  poets  prefer,  as  Rossetti  often  chose, 
to  leave  a  space  of  one  line  between  the  octave  and  the 
sestet.  Other  poets,  Matthew  Arnold  for  example,  occa- 
sionally separate  the  octave  into  two  quartrains,  while 
still  others  divide  the  sestet  into  two  equal  stanzas. 

A  sonnet  should  embody  a  single  theme  or  idea,  which 
should  be  presented  in  the  octave,  with  the  application 
made  in  the  sestet. 

Think  thou  and  act;  tomorrow  thou  shalt  die.  (a) 

Out-stretched  in  the  sun's  warmth  upon  the  shore,  (b) 
Thou  say'st;  "  Man's  measured  path  is  all  gone  o'er:  (b) 

Up  all  his  years,  -steeply,  with  strain  and  sigh,  (a) 

Man  clomb  until  he  touched  the  truth;  and  I,  (a) 

Even  I,  am  he  whom  it  was  destined  for."  (b) 

How  should  this  be?    Art  thou  then  so  much  more  (b) 

Than  they  who  sowed,  that  thou  shouldst  reap  therby?  (a) 

Nay,  come  up  hither.  From  this  wave-washed  mound  (c) 
Unto  the  furthest  flood-brim  look  with  me ;  (d) 

Then  reach  on  with  thy  thought  till  it  be  drown'd,  (c) 
Miles  and  miles  distant  though  the  last  line  be,     (d) 


1 68  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

And  though  thy  soul  sail  leagues  and  leagues  beyond, — (c) 
Still,  leagues  beyond  those  leagues  there  is  more  sea.  (d) 

— ROSSETTI. 

This  is  a  noble  and  impressive  sonnet;  it  is  absolutely 
regular  in  form  and  beautifully  illustrates  what  we  have 
just  said — the  octave  contains  the  proposition,  the  appli- 
cation is  made  in  the  sestet.  The  octave  is  written  in 
enclosed  rhyme,  and  contains  but  two  rhymes,  while 
the  sestet  is  written  with  alternate  rhyme,  and  also 
contains  two. 

The  greatest  two  English  poets  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century,  Tennyson  and  Browning,  did  not  excel  in  the 
sonnet.  Of  those  which  Tennyson  cared  to  preserve, 
only  one,  "Montenegro,"  is  of  the  first  class.  Browning 
wrote  very  few,  none  of  them  noteworthy. 

The  American  poet,  Longfellow,  with  a  slenderer  poetic 
equipment  than  either  of  these  great  contemporaries,  ex- 
celled them  both  in  the  use  of  the  sonnet.  Perhaps  his 
familiarity  with  Italian  made  him  sensitive  to  the  subtle 
beauties  of  the  sonnet  form.  Longfellow's  sonnets  are 
among  the  finest  of  his  poems  and  are  worthy  to  stand 
with  the  most  exquisite  in  the  language.  Let  us  read  one 
of  them: 

A  Nameless  Grave 

"A  soldier  of  the  Union  mustered  out,"  (a) 

Is  the  inscription  on  an  unknown  grave  (b) 

At  Newport  News,  beside  the  salt  sea  wave,  (b) 

Nameless  and  dateless;  sentinel  or  scout  (a) 

Shot  down  in  skirmish,  or  disastrous  rout  (a) 


THE   SONNET  1 69 

Of  battle,  when  the  loud  artillery  drave  (b) 

Its  iron  wedges  through  the  ranks  of  brave  (b) 

And  doomed  battalions,  storming  the  redout.  (a) 

Thou  unknown  hero  sleeping  by  the  sea  (c) 

In  thy  forgotten  grave !  with  secret  shame  (d) 

I  feel  my  pulses  beat,  my  forehead  burn,  (e) 

When  I  remember  thou  hast  given  for  me  (c) 

All  that  thou  hadst,  thy  life,  thy  very  name,  (d) 

And  I  can  give  thee  nothing  in  return.  (e) 

— Longfellow. 

Notice  the  noble  simplicity  and  clarity  of  this  sonnet. 
You  see  that  the  subject  is  stated  in  the  octave  and  that 
the  application  is  made  in  the  sestet.  The  octave  is 
written  in  enclosed  rhyme  and  the  sestet  has  three  rhymes, 
arranged  c,  d,  e,  c,  d,  e.  This  sonnet  has  also  great  excel- 
lence in  its  contrasting  terminal  vowel  sounds. 

We  notice  that  all  these  examples,  Shakespeare's  in- 
cluded, are  written  in  ten-syllable  lines  with  the  accent 
falling  on  the  2nd,  4th,  6th,  8th,  and  loth  syllables.  In 
other  words  they  are  written  in  iambic  pentameter. 
Some  authorities  say  that  a  sonnet  must  be  in  iambic 
pentameter.  This  need  not  invariably  be  the  case.  Sir 
Philip  Sidney's  sonnet,  reproduced  on  page  166  is  in 
twelve-syllable  lines,  and  Swinburne  has  given  us  a 
spirited  sonnet  written  in  eleven,  and  twelve-syllable 
lines  in  his 

Nell  Gwyn 

Sweet  heart,  that  no  taint  of  the  throne  or  the  stage  (a) 
Could  touch  with  unclean  transformation,  or  alter  (b) 


170  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

To  the  likeness  of  courtiers  whose  consciences  falter  (b) 

At  the  smile  or  the  frown,  at  the  mirth  or  the  rage,  (a) 

Of  a  master  whom  chance  could  inflame  or  assuage,  (a) 

Our  Lady  of  Laughter,  invoked  in  no  psalter,     (b) 

Adored  of  no  faithful  that  cringe  and  that  palter,  (b) 

Praise  be  with  thee  yet  from  a  hag-ridden  age.         (a) 

Our  Lady  of  Pity  thou  wast;    and  to  thee  (c) 

All  England,  whose  sons  are  the  sons  of  the  sea,  (c) 

Gives  thanks,  and  will  hear  not  if  history  snarls        (d) 

When  the  name  of  the  friend  of  her  sailors  is  spoken :  (e) 

And  thy  lover  she  cannot  but  love — by  the  token  (e) 

That  thy  name  was  the  last  on  the  lips  of  King  Charles,  (d) 

— Swinburne. 

The  following  also  contains  an  interesting  variation 
of  rhyming  order  followed  in  the  sestet — a  variation 
condemned  by  the  purist: 

The  Odyssey 
As  one  that  for  a  weary  space  has  lain 
Lulled  by  the  song  of  Circe  and  her  wine 
In  gardens  near  the  pale  of  Proserpine, 
Where  that  ^gean  isle  forgets  the  main, 
And  only  the  low  lutes  of  love  complain. 
And  only  shadows  of  wan  lovers  pine. 
As  such  an  one  were  glad  to  know  the  brine 
Salt  on  his  lips,  and  the  large  air  again, — 
So  gladly,  from  the  songs  of  modern  speech 
Men  turn,  and  see  the  stars  and  feel  the  free 
Shrill  wind  beyond  the  close  of  heavy  flowers. 
And,  through  the  music  of  the  languid  hours. 


THE   SONNET  171 

They  hear  like  ocean  on  a  western  beach 
The  surge  and  thunder  of  the  Odyssey. 

— Andrew  Lang. 

To  sonnet  lovers,  the  names  of  Milton  and  Wordsworth 
stand  out  preeminent.  Milton's  sonnets  are  magnificent, 
lofty  in  thought,  stately  and  sonorous  in  expression.  He 
followed  the  Italian  model  but  did  not  care  to  observe  the 
division  between  the  octave  and  the  sestet.  Words- 
worth's best  sonnets  are  among  his  finest  poems,  but  he 
wrote  many  which  are  more  or  less  commonplace.  How- 
ever, taken  all  in  all,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  he  wrote  more 
good  sonnets  than  any  other  English  poet  since  Shakes- 
peare. In  form,  he  allowed  himself  considerable  latitude, 
sometimes  observing  the  division  between  octave  and 
sestet,  and  sometimes  not,  and  occasionally  permitting 
himself  an  extra  rhyme  in  the  octave. 

The  sonnet  has  been  called  the  noblest  fixed  form  of 
English  verse.  Spenser  and  Keats  tried  to  vary  its  struc- 
ture, but  the  latter's  most  beautiful  sonnets  are  regular 
in  form.  Shelley,  on  the  other  hand,  wrote  few  sonnets, 
and  nearly  all  are  irregular.  Drummond  of  Hawthornden 
is  a  poet  remembered  for  his  noble  sonnets. 

Sonnet  Sequences,  or  a  group  of  more  or  less  closely  con- 
nected sonnets,  have  been  written  by  a  number  of  English 
poets.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Rossetti, 
and  Mrs.  Browning  wrote  famous  groups  of  this  sort,  and 
Wordsworth's  "Sonnets  Dedicated  to  Liberty"  may  be 
considered  another  example. 

A  Crown  of  Sonnets  was  an  Italian  conceit.     In   this 


172  THE  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

arrangement  the  last  line  of  each  sonnet  became  the  first 
line  of  the  succeeding  one,  and  the  concluding  line  of  the 
last  sonnet  was  the  same  as  the  opening  line  of  the  first. 

Sonnets  on  the  sonnet  have  been  written  by  many  poets; 
we  give  several  of  the  most  famous,  beginning  with  the 
sestet  from  Theodore  Watts-Dimton's  "The  Sonnet's 
Voice,"  because  it  includes  the  theory  of  the  sonnet: 

A  sonnet  is  a  wave  of  melody: 

From  heaving  waters  of  the  impassioned  soul 
A  billow  of  tidal  music  one  and  whole 

Flows  in  the  octave;  then,  returning  free, 
Its  ebbing  surges  in  the  sestet  roll 

Back  to  the  deeps  of  Life's  tumultuous  sea. 

The  Sonnet 
A  Sonnet  is  a  moment's  monument, — 

Memorial  from  the  Soul's  eternity 

To  one  dead  deathless  hour.    Look  that  it  be. 
Whether  for  lustral  rite  or  dire  portent, 
Of  its  own  arduous  fulness  reverent: 

Carve  it  in  ivory  or  in  ebony. 

As  Day  or  Night  may  rule ;  and  let  Time  see 
Its  flowering  crest  impearl'd  and  orient. 
A  Sonnet  is  a  coin;  its  face  reveals 

The  soul, — its  converse,  to  what  power  'tis  due: — 
Whether  for  tribute  to  the  august  appeals 

Of  Life,  or  dower  in  Love's  high  retinue, 
It  serve :  or,  'mid  the  dark  wharf's  cavernous  breath, 
In  Charon's  palm  it  pay  the  toll  of  Death. 

— Rossetti. 


the  sonnet  1 73 

Scorn  Not  the  Sonnet 

Scorn  not  the  Sonnet;  Critic,  you  have  frowned, 
Mindless  of  its  just  hours;  with  this  key 
Shakespeare  unlocked  his  heart;  the  melody 

Of  this  small  lute  gave  ease  to  Petrarch's  wound; 

A  thousand  times  this  pipe  did  Tasso  soxmd; 
With  it  Camoens  soothed  an  exile's  grief; 
The  Sonnet  glittered  a  gay  myrtle  leaf 

Amid  the  cypress  with  which  Dante  crowned 

His  visionary  brow;  a  glow-worm  lamp 
It  cheered  mild  Spenser,  called  from  Faery-land 

To  struggle  through  dark  ways;  and,  when  a  damp 
Fell  roimd  the  path  of  Milton,  in  his  hand 

The  thing  became  a  trumpet;  whence  he  blew 

Soul-animating  strains — alas,  too  few. 

— Wordsworth. 

The  Sonnet 

What  is  a  sonnet?  'Tis  the  pearly  shell 
That  murmurs  of  the  far-off  murmuring  sea; 
A  precious  jewel  carved  most  curiously: 

It  is  a  little  picture  painted  well. 

What  is  a  sonnet?    'Tis  the  tear  that  fell 
From  a  great  poet's  hidden  ecstasy; 

A  two-edged  sword,  a  star,  a  song — ah  me! 

Sometimes  a  heavy  tolling  funeral  bell. 

This  was  the  flame  that  shook  with  Dante's  breath; 
The  solemn  organ  whereon  Milton  played, 
And  the  clear  glass  where  Shakespeare's  shadow  falls: 


174  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

A  sea  this  is — beware  who  ventureth! 
For  like  a  fiord  the  narrow  floor  is  laid 
Mid-ocean  deep  to  the  sheer  mountain  walls. 

— Richard  Watson  Gilder. 

In  making  a  study  of  this  fascinating  poetic  type,  read 
Milton's  ''Sonnet  on  His  Blindness,"  Wordsworth's  "On 
Westminster  Bridge,"  and  "The  World  is  too  much  with 
us,"  Keats's  "On  First  Looking  into  Chapman's  Homer, " 
Mrs.  Browning's  "How  do  I  love  Thee?  Let  me  count  the 
Ways,"  Gilder's  "My  love  for  thee  doth  march  like  armed 
men,"  and  "I  count  my  time  by  times  that  I  meet  thee." 

Practise  sonnet  writing.  It  is  not  difl&cult  to  gain  the 
needed  facility  of  rhyme,  but  after  you  have  closed  with  a 
trite  and  hackneyed  figure,  take  up  at  random  a  sonnet  of 
Milton  or  of  Wordsworth,  and  note  the  dignity  of  its  phrase 
and  the  richness  of  its  figures.  Take,  for  instance,  this 
vigorous  passage  from  Mrs.  Browning: 

As  if  a  ship- wrecked  Pagan,  safe  in  Port, 
His  guardian  sea-god  to  commemorate. 
Should  set  a  sculptured  porpoise,  gills  a-snort, 
And  vibrant  tail,  within  the  temple-gate. 

The  sonnet  writer  must  be  willing  to  take  pains.  The 
great  master  of  the  sonnet,  Petrarch,  wrote  in  a  letter  to  a 
friend,  "The  courier  knocks  at  my  door  but  I  prefer  to  send 
him  away  empty  rather  than  publish  things  at  which  I 
should  afterwards  blush.  Could  I  like  you  write  verses  by 
the  thousand  I  would  not  do  so,  unless  the  rhythm  were 
rigorously  accurate,  unless  they  had  a  certain  poetical 


THE   SONNET  1 75 

charm,  unless  they  diffused  a  light  capable  of  raising  and 
edifying  the  mind;"  and  in  a  devout  Latin  note  to  one  of 
his  sonnets  he  says,  "I  began  this  by  the  impulse  of  the 
Lord,  loth  September,  at  the  dawn  of  day,  after  my  morn- 
ing prayers. " 

In  conclusion,  it  will  be  well  to  notice  Leigh  Hunt's  old 
rules  of  the  sonnet,  which  a  recent  writer  in  The  Century 
said  should  be  reprinted  by  every  magazine  in  the  country. 

Rules  of  the  Italian  Sonnet^ 

"The  sonnet,  then,  in  order  to  be  a  perfect  work  of  art, 
and  make  no  compromise  with  a  difficulty,  must  in  the 
first  place  be  a  Legitimate  Sonnet  after  the  proper  Italian 
fashion;  that  is  to  say,  with  but  two  rhymes  to  the  octave 
and  not  more  than  three  in  the  sestette. 

"  Secondly,  it  must  confine  itself  to  the  one  leading  idea, 
thought,  or  feeling. 

"Thirdly,  it  must  treat  this  one  leading  idea,  thought,  or 
feeling  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  in  the  reader's  mind  no 
sense  of  irrelevancy  or  insufficiency. 

"Fourthly,  it  must  not  have  a  speck  of  obscurity. 

"Fifthly,  it  must  not  have  a  forced  rhyme. 

"Sixthly,  it  must  not  have  a  superfluous  word. 

"Seventhly,  it  must  not  have  a  word  too  little;  that  is 
to  say,  an  omission  of  a  word  or  words,  for  the  sake  of  con- 
venience. 

"  Eighthly,  it  must  not  have  a  word  out  of  its  place. 

"Ninthly,  it  must  have  no  very  long  word,  or  any  other 

1  Leigh  Hunt,  "  The  Book  of  the  Sonnet. " 


176  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

that  tends  to  lessen  the  number  of  accents,  and  so  weaken 
the  verse. 

"Tenthly,  its  rhjones  must  be  properly  varied  and  con- 
trasted and  not  beat  upon  the  same  vowel, — a  fault  too 
common  with  very  good  sonnets.  It  must  not  say,  for 
instance,  rhyme,  tide,  abide,  crime;  or  play,  game,  refrain, 
way;  but  contrast  i  with  0,  or  with  some  other  strongly 
opposed  vowel  and  treat  every  vowel  on  the  same  principle. 

"  Eleventhly,  its  music  throughout,  must  be  as  varied  as 
it  is  suitable;  more  or  less  strong,  or  sweet,  according  to 
the  subject;  but  never  weak  or  monotonous,  unless  mo- 
notony itself  be  the  effect  intended. 

"Twelfthly,  it  must  increase,  or,  at  all  events,  not  de- 
cline in  interest,  to  its  close. 

"Lastly,  the  close  must  be  equally  impressive  and  un- 
affected; not  epigrammatic,  unless  where  the  subject 
warrants  it,  or  where  point  of  that  kind  is  desirable;  but 
simple,  conclusive,  and  satisfactory;  strength  being  para- 
mount, where  such  elevation  is  natural,  otherwise  on  a 
level  with  the  serenity;  flowing  in  calmness,  or  grand  in 
the  manifestation  of  power  withheld. " 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Which  of  the  several  forms  of  sonnets  outlined  in  this 
chapter  is  in  your  opinion  the  best?    Give  your  reasons. 

2.  What  is  the  rhyme-scheme  of  the  Italian  sonnet? 
This  should  be  memorized  by  every  student. 

3.  Do  you  consider  a  sonnet  an  especially  difl&cult  poem 
to  construct?    Why? 


THE   SONNET  1 77 

4.  Name  the  three  poets  generally  considered  to  be  the 
best  sonneteers  in  English  verse. 

5.  Write  out  the  rhyme-schemes  of  at  least  three  sonnet- 
forms. 

6.  Map  out  in  skeleton  form  several  sonnets  with  eu- 
phonious, contrasting  rhymes  placed  at  the  ends  of  four- 
teen lines  otherwise  blank. 

7.  Which  line  of  a  good  sonnet  would  naturally  be  the 
first  to  arise  in  the  mind  of  the  poet? 

8.  Rewrite  any  good  l)aic  in  sonnet  form. 

9.  Rewrite  any  of  the  sonnets  given  in  this  volume,  and 
change  the  rhyme-schemes. 

10.  Write  upon  a  modern  theme  a  sonnet  in  the  Italian 
pattern. 

11.  Write  a  sonnet  in  any  pattern  you  prefer. 


CHAPTER  XX 

IMITATIONS    OF   CLASSICAL   METERS 

The  advantages  of  the  more  numerous  versification  of  the 
ancients. 

— Leigh  Hunt,  What  is  Poetry? 
I  salute  thee,  Mantovano, 

I  that  loved  thee  since  my  day  began, 
Wielder  of  the  stateliest  measure 

ever  moulded  by  the  lips  of  man. 

— Tennyson,  To  Virgil. 
Professed  imitations  of  Greek  rhythm  in  English  poetry  seem 
to  me  to  have  gone  practically  always  on  quite  wrong  lines.  They 
ought  to  have  been  more  intensely  rhythmical  than  the  average ; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  think  they  are  being  Greek  when  they 
lose  lyrical  rhythm  altogether. 

— Gilbert  Murray,  What  English  Poetry  may  still  Learn 
from  Greek. 

As  we  have  already  said  in  Chapter  IV,  the  classical 
rules  of  quantity  were  different  from  the  accentual  laws  of 
English  verse.  It  is  therefore  not  only  difficult,  but  almost 
impossible  to  reproduce  in  English  the  effect  of  Greek  or 
Latin  meters.  There  are  two  classes  of  such  attempts; 
first,  those  that  endeavor  more  or  less  exactly  to  follow  the 
classical  rules  of  quantity  depending  on  long  and  short 
syllables;  second,  those  that  frankly  employ  accented 
syllables  in  place  of  the  long  ones  in  the  original.  Those 
that  follow  the  classical  rules  are  more  difficult  to  read 
according  to  English  rhythm,  and  they  are  also  less  pleas- 
ing to  the  average  English  ear. 


IMITATIONS   or   CLASSICAL  METERS  1 79 

I.  Hexameters 

Dactylic  Hexameter  is  the  meter  most  often  attempted 
in  imitation.  It  was  used  for  heroic  or  epic  poetry.  It 
consisted  of  six  feet,  the  first  four  being  either  dactyls  or 
spondees,  the  fifth  ordinarily  a  dactyl  (but  occasionally  a 
spondee,  when  the  line  was  called  a  spondaic  verse),  and 
the  sixth  and  last  always  a  spondee  or  a  trochee. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  follow  this  rule  in  English, 
because  there  are  practically  no  natural  spondees  in  the 
English  language.  (A  spondee  was  a  foot  consisting  of 
two  long,  or  equally  accented,  syllables).  Therefore,  there 
is  usually  a  preponderance  of  dactyls  in  English  hexame- 
ters, making  the  meter  lighter  and  more  tripping  than  the 
original,  and  trochees  are  often  substituted  for  spondees. 

Poe,  after  a  scathing  denimciation  of  the  hexameters 

of  some  of  his  contemporaries,  goes  on  to  say,  however, 

that  he  will  not  admit  that  a  truly  Greek  hexameter  cannot 

be  composed  in  English  and  offers  the  following  as  an 

example : 

/     f  /  /  t 

Do  tell!  I  when  may  we  |  hope  to  make  |  men  of  sense  | 
t  It 

out  of  the  I  Pundits  | 
/  /  lit 

Born  and  brought  |  up  with    their  |  snouts   deep  |  down 
I  t       I 

in  the  |  mud  of  the  |  Frog-pond?  | 
ft  t  III  I 

Why  ask?    |  Who    ever  |  yet    saw  |  money    made  |  out 

of  a  I  fat  old  1 
II  II  II  II  I 

Jew,   or  I   downright  |  upright  |  nutmegs  |  out    of  a  | 

pine-knot?  | 


l8o  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

He  maintains  that  the  "proper  spondee  predominance 
is  here  preserved. "  But  English  writers  are  content  with 
one  or  two,  what  we  might  call,  imitation  spondees  in  a 
line.  They  are  always  careful,  however,  to  have  their 
fifth  foot  a  dactyl,  and  their  last  foot  a  foot  of  two 
syllables,  although  it  is  usually  a  trochee. 

Coleridge  gives  us  an  example  of  this  meter  in  the  follow- 
ing translation  from  Schiller: 

f  t  t      t  I  t 

Strongly  it  |  bears  us  a  |  long  in  |  swelling  and  [  limitless  | 

billows,  I 

Nothing  be  [  fore  and  ]  nothing  be  |  hind  but  the  |  sky 

and  the  |  ocean.  | 

And  in  an  epistle  to  Wordsworth  he  says: 

And  as  I  live  you  will  see  my  hexameters  trotting  before 

you. 
This  is  a  galloping  measure,  a  hop,  and  a  trot,  and  a  gallop. 

Walter  Savage  Landor  writes  on  the  same  subject: 

Askest  thou  if  in  my  youth  I  have  mounted,  as  others 

have  mounted, 

Galloping  Hexameter,  Pentameter  cantering  after? 
*        *        * 

Much  as  old  meters  delight  me,  'tis  only  where  first  they 

were  nurtured, 
In  their  own  clime,  their  own  speech;  than  pamper  them 

here,  I  would  rather 
Tie  up  my  Pegasus  tight  to  the  scanty-fed  rack  of  a  sonnet. 


IMITATIONS   OF   CLASSICAL   METERS  l8l 

Longfellow  used  this  measure  in  "The  Children  of  the 
Lord's  Supper  "  and  in  "  Evangeline. "  We  may  divide  the 
opening  lines  of  the  latter  poem  into  feet  as  follows: 

/  /  /  / 

This  is  the  ]  forest  pri  |  meval.       The  ]  murmuring  | 

pines  and  the  |  hemlocks  [ 
/  /  III 

Bearded  with  |  moss  and  in  |  garments  |  green,  indi-  | 
I  II 

stinct  in  the  |  twilight,  | 
II  I  II  III 

Stand  like  ]  Druids  of  |  eld,  with  |  voices  |  sad  and 

pro  I  phetic,  ] 
II  II  II  I  II 

Stand  like  |  harpers  |  hoar,  with  |  beards    that  |  rest 
I   I 
on  their  |  bosoms.  | 

Elegiac  Meter ^  which  is  very  rarely  used  today,  consists 
of  a  dactylic  hexameter  line  followed  by  a  dactylic 
pentameter. 

This  pentameter  is  unusual  in  being  composed  of  two 
sections  of  two  and  a  half  feet  each.  There  are  two  whole 
feet,  then  a  single  long  syllable,  followed  by  the  caesura, 
or  pause;  then  two  more  feet,  followed  by  a  long  syllable. 
Coleridge  imitates  it  in  this  translation  from  Schiller: 

I  I  I  It! 

In  the    hex  |  ameter  |  rises   the  |  fountain's  |  silvery  | 
I    I 
column  I 

/  III  II 

In  the  pen  |  tameter  |  aye ' '  |  falling  in  |  melody  1  back ' '  \ 

The  csesural  pause  is  marked  ' ' . 


l82  THE  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

Tennyson  gives  us  the  following  quantitative  example  of 
elegiacs.  That  is,  the  long  syllables  are  really  long,  or  are 
arbitrarily  made  so. 

II  I  II  II 

These   lame    |    hexame    |    ters,   the    |    strong-winged   | 
/  II 

music  of  I  Homer?  | 
/  III  I  I 

No — but  a  I  most  bur  |  lesque  "  |  barbarous  |  experi  | 

ment.  | 

To  which  one  might  respond: 

When  was  harsher  sound  ever  heard,  ye  Muses  in  Eng- 
land? 
When  did  a  frog  coarser  croak  upon  our  Helicon? 

2.  Lyrical  Measures 

Hendecasyllabics,  or  eleven  syllable  verse,  is  composed 
of  a  spondee,  a  dactyl  and  three  trochees. 

III  II  I 

O  you  I  chorus  of  ]  indo  |  lent  re  |  viewers,  | 

III  II  I 

Irre  ]  sponsible,  |  indo  |  lent  re  |  viewers,  | 

III  I  II 

Look,  I  I  come  to  the  ]  test,  a  |  tiny  ]  poem,  | 

III  II  I 

All  com  I  posed  in  a  |  meter  |  of  Ca  |  tullus;  | 

III  I  I  I 

All  in  I  quantity,  |  careful  |  of  my  |  motion,  | 

III  I  II 

Like  the  |  skater  on  |  ice  that  |  hardly  |  bears  him,  | 

Lest  I  I  fall  una  |  wares  be  ]  fore  the  |  people,  | 

Waking  |  laughter  in  |  indo  |  lent  re  |  viewers.  | 

— Tennyson,  Hendecasyllabics  . 


IMITATIONS   OF   CLASSICAL  METERS  1 83 

Alcaics,  named  from  the  poet  Alcaeus,  are  of  several 
kinds.  In  one,  the  line  is  made  up  of  either  a  spondee 
or  an  iambus,  then  a  long  syllable,  and  two  dactyls; 
in  another,  it  consists  of  two  dactyls  and  two  trochees. 
Tennyson  uses  the  latter  form  in  his  poem  on  Milton, 
beginning  with  a  single  syllable,  then  two  trochees  and  two 
dactyls.  Note  that  the  third  line  contains  three  trochees, 
and  that  the  last  line  reverses  the  order  of  the  feet  of  the 
first  two  lines,  beginning  with  two  dactyls  and  ending  with 
two  trochees: 


0|  mighty  |  mouth'd   in  |  ventor   of  |  harmonics, 

/  /  /  / 

0|  skill'd  to  I  sing  of  |  Time  or  E  |  ternity,  | 
ft  /  / 

God-  I  gifted  |  organ-  |  voice  of  |  England,  ] 

Milton  a  |  name  to  re  i  soimd  for  |  ages;  | 
Whose  Titan  angels,  Gabriel,  Abdiel, 
Starred  from  Jehovah's  gorgeous  armories, 
Tower,  as  the  deep-domed  empyrean. 

Rings  to  the  roar  of  an  angel  onset! 


Sapphics  were  named  from  the  poetess  Sappho.  A 
Sapphic  line  consists  of  eleven  syllables  or  five  feet,  the 
first  a  trochee,  the  second  a  spondee,  the  third  a  dactyl, 
and  the  fourth  and  fifth  trochees.  Three  of  these  lines 
are  followed  by  a  line  of  five  syllables  consisting  of  a 
dactyl  and  a  spondee. 


1 84  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

/  I         t  t  t  t 

Saw  the  |  white  im  [  placable  |  Aphro  |  dite,  | 

Saw  the  |  hair  un  |  bound  and  the  |  feet  un  |  sandalled  | 

t  lit  t  t 

Shine  as  |  fire  of  |  sunset  on  |  western  |  waters;  | 
t  It 

Saw  the  re  |  luctant  | 

/  t     t  t  §  t 

Feet,  the  |  straining  |  plumes  of  the  |  doves  that  [  drew 

her  I 

Looking  |  always  |  looking  with  |  necks  re  ]  verted,  | 

/  tit  t  I 

Back  to  I  Lesbos,  |  back  to  the  |  hills  where  |  under  | 

Shone  Mity  |  lene; 
Heard  the  flying  feet  of  the  Loves  behind  her 
Make  a  sudden  thunder  upon  the  waters. 
As  the  thunder  flung  from  the  strong  unclosing 

Wings  of  a  great  wind. 

So  the  goddess  fled  from  her  place,  with  awful 

Sound  of  feet  and  thunder  of  wings  around  her: 

While  behind  a  clamor  of  singing  women 

Severed  the  twilight. 

— Swinburne. 

It  is  apparent  that  the  beauty  of  this  meter  is  due  to  the 
central  dactyl,  or  foot  of  three  syllables.  In  "The  Friend 
of  Humanity  and  The  Knife-Grinder, "  which  is  a  bur- 
lesque of  this  measure,  a  dactyl  is  substituted  for  the  first 
trochee. 


IMITATIONS   OF   CLASSICAL   METERS  185 

Needy  knife-grinder!  whither  are  you  going? 
Rough  is  the  road,  your  wheel  is  out  of  order, — 
Bleak  blows  the  blast, — ^your  hat  has  got  a  hole  in't. 
So  have  your  breeches! 

— Canning  and  Frere. 

Choriamhic.  A  choriambus  is  a  foot  consisting  of  a 
trochee  combined  with  and  preceding  an  iambus.  It  is 
therefore  a  foot  of  four  syllables,  the  first  long,  the  second 
and  third  short,  and  the  fourth  long.  A  choriambic  line 
consists  of  a  spondee,  three  choriambuses,  and  an  iambus, 

t  t        f  It  I 

Love,  what  |  ailed  thee  to  leave  ]  life  that  was  made  | 
II  I 

lovely,  we  thought,  |  with  love?  | 
III  II  I 

What  sweet  |  visions  of  sleep  |  lured  thee  away,  | 
/  f  I 

down  from  the  light  |  above? 

What  strange  faces  of  dreams,  voices  that  called,  hands 

that  were  raised  to  wave. 

Lured  or  led  thee,  alas,  out  of  the  sun,  down  to  the  sunless 

grave? 

— Swinburne. 

Galliamhic.  A  galliambic  line  is  composed  of  iambic 
feet,  one  of  which  is  catalectic,  or  drops  the  final  syllable; 
the  next  to  the  last  foot  is  an  anapaest,  or  two  short  syllables 
followed  by  a  long  one. 


1 86  THE  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

I  t  t  t  t 

So  I  in  ire  I  she  spake  |  adjust  |  ing  "  dis  |  uni  |  tedly  then  | 

her  yoke.  | 

I  t  t  I 

At  I  his  own  |  rebuke  |  the  li  |  on  "  doth  |  his  heart  ] 

to  a  f u  I  ry  spur, 

With  a  step,  a  roar,  a  bursting,  unarrested  of  any  brake. 
— Robinson  Ellis,  Translation  oj  the  Attis. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

Note.  The  student  should  not  only  recognize  but 
understand  the  functions  of  all  metrical  feet  found  in 
English  verse. 

1.  Mark  the  accents  of  the  unmarked  lines  quoted  in 
this  chapter. 

2.  Copy  the  following  table  of  accented  and  unaccented 
syllables,  and  keep  it  by  you  until  you  have  mastered  it. 

Iambus: '  Spondee:  — ' — ' 

Trochee:  — ' —  Amphibrach: 

Anapaest: '  Amphimacer:     — ' ' 

Dactyl:         — ' 

Write  it  from  memory. 

3.  Write  seven  rhythmic  lines,  the  first  line  trochaic,  the 
second  line  iambic,  etc.,  in  illustration  of  all  the  metrical 
feet  noted  in  this  table.  Of  course,  these  are  not  to  be  parts 
of  one  stanza. 

4.  Having  become  familiar  with  these  technicalities  of 
verse,  would  you  consider  it  essential  to  bear  them  con- 
tinually in  mind  during  the  composition  of  poetry? 


IMITATIONS   OF   CLASSICAL  METERS  1 87 

5.  Revise  one  of  your  former  poetic  efforts  and  hand  in 
the  revised  Ms. 

6.  Choosing  the  three  most  attractive  classical  forms, 
write  a  stanza  in  each.  In  imitating  a  set  form  it  is  always 
good  to  draft  a  plan  of  the  meter  and  follow  it  carefully. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

FRENCH   FORMS 

The  charm  of  these  strictly  written  verses  is  undoubtedly  in- 
creased by  some  knowledge  of  their  technical  rules.  Every 
quality  that  poetry  demands,  whether  clearness  of  thought,  ele- 
gance of  expression,  harmonious  sound,  or  faultless  rhythm,  is 
needed  as  much  in  these  shapes  as  in  unfettered  verse. — Gleeson 
White,  Introduction  to  Ballades  and  Rondeaus. 

That  highten  balades,  roundels,  virelaies. — Chaucer,  The 
Legend  of  Good  Women. 

The  so-called  French  forms  of  artificial  verse  include 
many  varieties.  The  most  common  of  these  are  the 
Ballade,  the  Rondeau,  the  Rondel,  the  Villanelle,  and  the 
Triolet.  There  are  other  less  usual  forms  of  which  the 
Kyrielle  is  the  simplest,  and  the  Pantoum,  the  Chant 
Royal,  and  the  Sestina,  the  most  complicated  and 
difl&cult. 

All  these  meters  share  certain  characteristics:  an  arbi- 
trary rhyme-scheme,  a  limited  number  of  rhymes,  and 
the  repetition  of  a  refrain,  or  of  certain  lines,  or  of  terminal 
words.  They  are  excellent  practice  for  the  verse-writer, 
for  their  frequent  use  gives  ease  and  flexibility,  and  should 
lead  to  lightness  and  grace.  Perhaps  the  most  attractive 
of  them  all  is  the  Ballade. 

The  Ballade  must  not  be  confused  with  the  ballad,  which 
was  a  simple  form  of  folk-poetry.  The  Ballade,  on  the 
contrary,  although  it  is  supposed  to  have  originated  in 


FRENCH  FORMS  1 89 

dance  and  song,  is  a  most  sophisticated  and  artificial  meter, 
cultivated  in  old  times  by  court  poets,  and  invariably 
dedicated  to  a  prince  or  a  patron. 

In  its  most  usual  form  it  consists  of  three  eight-line 
stanzas,  with  an  envoy,  or  dedication,  of  four  lines  at  the 
close.  It  is  sometimes  written  in  three  ten-line  stanzas 
with  an  envoy  of  five  lines,  and  even  nine-line  and  eleven- 
line  ballades  are  not  unknown.  The  eight-line  stanza, 
however,  is  the  typical  one,  and  the  eight-syllable  line  the 
most  usual.    Three  rhymes  only  are  allowed. 

The  rhyme-scheme  of  the  stanza  is  a,  b,  a,  b,  b,  c,  b,  c, 
and  of  the  envoy,  b,  c,  b,  c. 

The  same  terminal  rhyming  word  may  not  be  used 
twice,  except  of  course  in  the  refrain.  The  refrain  forms 
the  last  line  of  each  stanza  and  the  last  line  of  the  envoy. 
The  sense  of  each  stanza  must  be  continuous,  and  the  re- 
frain should  complete  the  sense  naturally  and  without 
awkwardness.  The  refrain  should  recur  each  time  without 
any  change  of  word,  though  a  change  of  emphasis  is  allow- 
able and  even  desirable. 

The  refrain  is  the  corner-stone  of  a  ballade,  and  as  the 
whole  structure  rests  thereupon,  it  should  be  chosen  first. 
The  old  French  poets  insisted  that  the  length  of  the  refrain 
should  govern  not  only  the  length  of  the  line  but  also  the 
number  of  lines  in  the  stanza — that  is,  that  a  ten-syllable 
refrain  necessitated  a  ten-line  stanza,  and  an  eight-syllable 
refrain  an  eight-line  stanza.  This  latter  rule  is  not  ob- 
served in  modern  English  practice;  so  accomplished  a 
balladist  as  Mr.  Andrew  Lang  having  written  ballades 
with  lines  of  four,  seven,  eight,  nine,  and  even  eleven 


IQO  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

syllables,  yet  all  with  the  eight-line  stanza.  The  ten- 
syllable  ballade,  however,  is  still  usually  written  with  ten 
lines. 

The  difficulty  of  rendering  the  Ballade  in  English  is 
caused  by  the  number  of  rhyming  words  needed:  fourteen 
of  one  kind,  six  of  another,  and  five  of  another.  Ballades 
with  two  rhymes  are  permissible,  but  the  difficulty  is  then, 
of  course,  increased:  fourteen  rhymes  of  one  kind  must  be 
found  and  eleven  of  the  other. 

The  envoy  (sometimes  written  envoi),  or  dedication,  is 
the  address  to  the  poet's  sovereign,  or  patron,  and  is  the 
summing  up  and  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter,  often 
pointing  the  moral  and  adorning  the  tale. 

One  of  Franfois  Villon's  ballades  has  always  been  a 
favorite  with  translators.  Andrew  Lang's  version,  which 
we  give,  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing. 


Ballade  of  Dead  Ladies 
(After  Villon) 

Nay,  tell  me  now  in  what  strange  air 

The  Roman  Flora  dwells  to-day. 
Where  Archippiada  hides,  and  where 

Beautiful  Thais  has  passed  away? 

Whence  answers  Echo,  afield,  astray. 
By  mere  or  stream, — around,  below? 

Lovelier  she  than  a  woman  of  clay; 
Nay,  but  where  is  the  last  year's  snow? 


FRENCH  FORMS  I9I 

Where  is  wise  Heloise,  that  care 

Brought  on  Abeilard,  and  dismay? 
All  for  her  love  he  found  a  snare 

A  maimed  poor  monk  in  orders  grey; 

And  Where's  the  Queen  who  willed  to  slay 
Buridan,  that  in  a  sack  must  go 

Afloat  down  Seine, — a  perilous  way — 
Nay,  but  where  is  the  last  year's  snow? 

Where  is  that  White  Queen,  a  lily  rare 

With  her  sweet  song,  the  Siren's  lay? 
Where's  Bertha  Broad-foot,  Beatrice  fair? 

Alys  and  Ermengarde,  where  are  they? 

Good  Joan,  whom  English  did  betray 
In  Rouen  town,  and  burned  her?    No, 

Maiden  and  Queen,  no  man  may  say; 
Nay,  but  where  is  the  last  year's  snow? 

ENVOY 

Prince,  all  this  week  thou  need'st  not  pray. 
Nor  yet  this  year  the  thing  to  know, 
One  burden  answers,  ever  and  aye, 
"Nay,  but  where  is  the  last  year's  snow?" 

Ballade  of  Ten  Lines.  In  this  form,  four  rhymes  are 
permitted.  The  envoy  should  contain  five  lines,  half  as 
many  as  the  stanza.  The  rhyme  order  is  a,  b,  a,  b,  b,  c, 
c,  d,  c,  d,  in  the  stanza,and  in  the  envoy,  c,  c,  d,  c,  d. 

To  show  the  structure,  we  quote  the  first  stanza  and  the 
envoy  of  Andrew  Lang's  translation  of  "The  Ballade  of 


192  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

the  Voyage  to  Cythera,"  after  Theodore  de  Banville. 
This  ballade  follows  the  rule  of  ten  syllables,  ten  lines. 

I  know  Cythera  long  is  desolate; 

I  know  the  winds  have  stripp'd  the  gardens  green, 

Alas,  my  friend!  Beneath  the  fierce  sun's  weight 

A  barren  reef  lies  where  Love's  flowers  have  been, 

Nor  ever  lover  on  that  coast  is  seen ! 

So  be  it,  but  we  seek  a  fabled  shore, 

To  lull  our  vague  desires  with  mystic  lore. 

To  wander  where  Love's  labyrinths  beguile; 

There  let  us  land,  there  dream  forevermore: 

"It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  happy  isle." 

ENVOY 

Sad  eyes!  The  blue  sea  laughs,  as  heretofore. 
Oh!  singing  birds  your  happy  music  pour! 
Ah,  poets,  leave  the  sordid  earth  awhile; 
Flit  to  these  ancient  gods  we  still  adore : 
"It  may  be  we  shall  touch  the  happy  isle!" 

The  Double  Ballade  consists  of  six  stanzas  of  eight  or  ten 
lines,  using  respectively  three  or  four  rhymes,  necessitating, 
of  course,  a  double  number  of  rhyming  words.  It  is  some- 
times written  without  an  envoy. 

The  Ballade  d,  Double  Refrain  uses  two  refrains,  one  of 
which  occurs  as  the  fourth  line  of  each  stanza  and  as  the 
second  line  of  the  envoy,  and  the  other  in  the  ordinary 
place,  as  the  last  line  of  each  stanza  and  the  last  line  of  the 
envoy.     The  subjects  of  the  two  refrains  should  be  con- 


FRENCH  FORMS  1 93 

trasted.      The    following,    by    Austin    Dobson,    is    an 
excellent  example: 

The  Ballade  of  Prose  and  Rhyme 
(Ballade  a  Double  Refrain) 

When  the  days  are  heavy  with  mire  and  rut, 
In  November  fogs,  in  December  snows. 

When  the  North  wind  howls,  and  the  doors  are  shut, 
There  is  place  and  enough  for  the  pains  of  prose, 
But  whenever  a  scent  from  the  whitethorn  blows, 

And  the  jasmine  stars  at  the  casement  climb 
And  a  Rosalind  face  at  the  lattice  shows. 

Then  hey! — for  the  ripple  of  laughing  rhyme! 

When  the  brain  gets  dry  as  an  empty  nut, 

When  the  reason  stands  on  its  squarest  toes. 
When  the  mind  (like  a  beard)  has  a  "  formal  cut, " — 

There  is  place  and  enough  for  the  pains  of  prose; 

But  whenever  the  May-blood  stirs  and  glows. 
And  the  young  year  draws  to  the  "golden  prime," 

And  Sir  Romeo  sticks  in  his  ear  a  rose, — 
Then  hey ! — for  the  ripple  of  laughing  rhyme ! 

In  a  theme  where  the  thoughts  have  a  pedant-strut, 

In  a  changing  quarrel  of  "Ayes"  and  "Noes," 
In  a  starched  procession  of  "If"  and  "But," — 

There  is  place  and  enough  for  the  pains  of  prose; 

But  whenever  a  soft  glance  softer  grows 
And  the  light  hours  dance  to  the  trysting-time, 

And  the  secret  is  told  "  that  no  one  knows, " — 
Then  hey! — for  the  ripple  of  laughing  rhyme! 


194  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

ENVOY 

In  the  work-a-day  world, — for  its  needs  and  woes, 
There  is  place  and  enough  for  the  pains  of  prose, 
But  whenever  the  May  bells  clash  and  chime 
Then  hey! — for  the  ripple  of  laughing  rhyme! 

The  Rondeau  is  another  delightful  form  which  in  the 
hands  of  a  master  yields  imexpected  beauties.  Indeed  it 
may  be  said  to  rank  next  to  the  sonnet  as  a  short,  formal 
poem.  Like  the  ballade,  it  is  built  upon  the  refrain,  which 
also  forms  in  the  rondeau  the  first  half  of  the  first  line,  or, 
if  a  refrain  of  one  word  only  is  used,  the  first  word  of  the 
first  line;  therefore  as  one  author  tells  us: 

Upon  a  good  beginning  must  be  based 
A  good  rondeau. 

Voiture,  in  France,  was  the  chief  master  of  rondeau- 
writing  and  since  his  day  the  so-called  Rondeau  of  Voiture 
has  been  its  most  popular  form.  It  consists  of  thirteen 
lines  with  two  rhymes,  and  an  unrhymed  refrain  which 
also  forms  the  opening  word  or  words  of  the  first  line.  The 
poem  is  divided  into  three  stanzas.  The  rhyme-order  is 
a,  a,  h,  b,  a — a,  a,  b,  and  refrain — a,  a,  b,  b,  a  and  refrain. 
The  refrain  is  not  counted  in  the  lines  of  the  stanza.  It 
must  recur  without  change  of  word,  but  is  sometimes  given 
a  changed  meaning  with  happy  effect.  Rondeaus  are 
usually  written  in  eight-syllable  lines;  however,  the  fol- 
lowing fine  example  by  W.  E.  Henley,  has  ten  syllables. 


french  forms  1 95 

What  is  to  Come 
(Rondeau) 
What  is  to  come  we  know  not.    But  we  know 
That  what  has  been  was  good — was  good  to  show, 
Better  to  hide,  and  best  of  all  to  bear, 
We  are  the  masters  of  the  days  that  were: 
We  have  lived,  we  have  loved,  we  have  suffered — even  so. 

Shall  we  not  take  the  ebb  who  had  the  flow? 
Life  was  our  friend.    Now,  if  it  be  our  foe — 

Dear,  though  it  break  and  spoil  us! — need  we  care 
What  is  to  come? 

Let  the  great  winds  their  worst  and  wildest  blow, 

Or  the  gold  weather  round  us  mellow  slow; 

We  have  fulfilled  ourselves,  and  we  can  dare 
And  we  can  conquer,  though  we  may  not  share 

Li  the  rich  quiet  of  the  afterglow 
What  is  to  come. 

The  Rondeau  of  Villon  is  a  shorter  form.    It  consists  of 

ten  lines  with  two  rhymes  and  an  unrhymed  refrain  which 

is    used    twice — hence     twelve     lines     in     all.       The 

rhyme  scheme  is  a,  h,  b,  a, — a,  b,  and  refrain,  a,  b,  b,  a,  and 

refrain. 

In  Vain  Today 

(Rondeau) 

In  vain  today  I  scrape  and  blot: 

The  nimble  words,  the  phrases  neat. 

Decline  to  mingle  and  to  meet. 
My  skill  is  all  forgone,  forgot. 


196  THE  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

He  will  not  canter,  walk,  or  trot, 
My  Pegasus;  I  spur,  I  beat 
In  vain  to-day. 

And  yet  'twere  sure  the  saddest  lot 
That  I  should  fail  to  leave  complete 
One  poor — the  rhyme  suggests  "conceit!" 

Alas!  'tis  all  too  clear  I'm  not 
In  vein  to-day. 

— Austin  Dobson. 

The  Roundel  is  a  variation  of  the  rondeau,  invented  by 
Swinburne  and  used  by  him  with  great  freedom  and  dex- 
terity. Its  charm  consists  in  its  rhyming  refrain.  The 
rhyme-order  is  a,  b,  a,  refrain, — b,  a,  b, — a,  b,  a,  refrain. 
Swinburne  has  written  roimdels  with  every  imaginable 
rhythm  and  with  lines  varying  from  four  syllables  to 
sixteen.    We  give  the  envoi  to  his  "  Century  of  Roundels : " 

Envoi 

(Roundel) 

Fly,  white  butterflies  out  to  sea, 
Frail  pale  wings  for  the  winds  to  try, 
Small  white  wings  that  we  scarce  can  see 
Fly. 

Here  and  there  may  a  chance  caught  eye 
Note  in  a  score  of  you,  twain  or  three 
Brighter  or  darker  of  tinge  or  dye. 


FRENCH   FORMS  I97 

Some  fly  light  as  a  laugh  of  glee, 
Some  fly  soft  as  a  low  long  sigh, 
All  to  the  haven  where  each  would  be 
Fly. 

The  Rondel.  The  word  rondel  is  merely  the  old  spelling 
of  the  French  word  rondeau,  but  it  has  come  to  mean  a 
slightly  different  form  of  verse.  There  are  two  types  of 
modern  rondels.  One  consists  of  fourteen  lines  with  two 
rhymes,  usually  in  the  order  a,  b,  b,  a, — a,  b,  a,  b, — a,  b,  b, 
a,  a,  b,  or  a,  b,  a,  b, — b,  a,  a,  b, — a,  b,  a,  b,  a,  b.  The  two 
first  lines  are  repeated  as  the  seventh  and  eighth,  and 
again  as  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  lines.  The  effect 
is,  of  course,  slightly  monotonous. 

The  other  and  more  graceful  form  drops  the  fourteenth 
line,  so  that  although  the  first  line  of  the  poem  is  repeated 
three  times,  the  second  line  occurs  only  twice,  giving  more 
variety  and  lightness  to  the  verse.  We  give  a  specimen  of 
the  thirteen-line  rondel: 

The  Ways  of  Death 
(Rondel) 

The  ways  of  Death  are  soothing  and  serene. 
And  all  the  words  of  Death  are  grave  and  sweet. 
From  camp  and  church,  the  fireside  and  the  street. 

She  signs  to  come,  and  strife  and  song  have  been. 

A  summer  night  descending  cool  and  green 
And  dark,  on  daytime's  dust  and  stress  and  heat. 

The  ways  of  death  are  soothing  and  serene. 

And  all  the  words  of  Death  are  grave  and  sweet. 


1 98  THE  ART   OF  VERSIFICATION 

O  glad  and  sorrowful,  with  triumphant  mien 

And  hopeful  faces  look  upon  and  greet 

This  last  of  all  your  lover's,  and  to  meet 

.  Her  kiss,  the  Comforter's,  your  spirit  lean. — 

The  ways  of  Death  are  soothing  and  serene. 

— W.  E.  Henley. 

The  Rondelet  is  a  diminutive  form  which  is  not  often 
used.  It  consists  of  seven  lines  including  the  refrain,  with 
two  rhymes,  in  the  order  a,  b,  a,  a,  b,  b,  a. 

Rondelet 

"Which  way  he  went?" 

I  know  not — how  should  I  go  spy 

Which  way  he  went? 
I  only  know  him  gone.    "Relent?" 
He  never  will — unless  I  die! 
And  then,  what  will  it  signify 

Which  way  he  went? 

— May  Probyn. 

The  Rondeau  Redouble  has  little  in  common  with  the 
rondeau  but  the  name.  It  consists  of  six  four-line  stanzas 
rhymed  alternately  on  two  rhymes,  and  its  intricacy  is 
caused  by  the  use  in  turn  of  the  f  oiir  lines  of  the  first  stanza 
as  the  terminal  lines  of  the  four  succeeding  stanzas.  The 
one  feature  which  it  shares  with  the  rondeau,  (other  than 
its  use  of  two  rhymes)  is  the  re-appearance  of  the  first 
half  of  the  first  line  as  a  short  concluding  line  at  the  end  of 
the  poem.  This  may  rhyme  or  not  as  the  author  pleases. 
An  example  will  best  illustrate  the  structure : 


french  forms  1 99 

Rondeau  Redouble 

My  day  and  night  are  in  my  lady's  hand; 

I  have  no  other  sunrise  than  her  sight; 
For  me  her  favor  glorifies  the  land; 

Her  anger  darkens  all  the  cheerful  light. 

Her  face  is  fairer  than  the  hawthorn  white, 
When  all  a-flower  in  May  the  hedgerows  stand; 

While  she  is  kind,  I  know  of  no  afifright. 
My  day  and  night  are  in  my  lady's  hand. 

All  heaven  in  her  glorious  eyes  is  spanned; 

Her  smile  is  softer  than  the  summer's  night, 
Gladder  than  daybreak  on  the  Faery  strand; 

I  have  no  other  sunrise  than  her  sight. 

Her  silver  speech  is  like  the  singing  flight 
Of  nmnels  rippling  o'er  the  jewelled  sand; 

Her  kiss  a  dream  of  delicate  delight; 
For  me  her  favor  glorifies  the  land. 

What  if  the  Winter  chase  the  Summer  bland! 

The  gold  sun  in  her  hair  burns  ever  bright, 
If  she  be  sad,  straightway  all  joy  is  banned; 

Her  anger  darkens  all  the  cheerful  light. 

Come  weal  or  woe,  I  am  my  lady's  knight 

And  in  her  service  every  ill  withstand; 
Love  is  my  Lord  in  all  the  world's  despite 
And  holdeth  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand 
My  day  and  night. 

— John  Payne. 


200  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

The  Villanelle  uses  two  rhymes  and  consists  of  six 
stanzas,  five  of  three  lines  each,  and  the  last  one  of  four 
lines.  It  belongs  to  the  type  of  rondel  and  rondeau  re- 
double in  that  it  gains  its  efifect  by  the  repetition  of  lines. 

The  first  and  last  lines  of  the  first  stanza  re-appear 
alternately  as  the  last  lines  of  the  second,  third,  fourth, 
and  fifth  stanzas,  and  both  together  form  the  two  con- 
cluding lines  of  the  last  stanza.  The  tercets  (groups  of 
three  lines)  are  rhymed  a,  h,  a,  and  the  concluding  quatrain 
a,  h,  a,  a. 

The  villanelle  was  originally  supposed  to  be  a  shepherd's 
song  and  was  devoted  almost  exclusively  to  pastoral  sub- 
jects. The  following  example  shows  that  it  can  be  used 
for  a  more  dignified  theme: 

Villanelle 

The  silent  stars  burn  in  the  sky, 

Vega,  Caph  and  white  Altair, 

Unknowing  that  we  live  and  die. 

Aldebaran,  the  Bull's  fierce  eye, 

Arcturus'  sullen,  fatal  flare. 
The  silent  stars  burn  in  the  sky. 

Alphard,  lone  heart  of  fire  on  high. 

Gleams  from  out  the  Hydra's  lair. 
Unknowing  that  we  live  and  die. 

They  watch  our  tiny  Earth  spin  by. 
Incurious  that  we  strive  and  dare. 
The  silent  stars  burn  in  the  sky. 


FRENCH  FORMS  20I 

Andromeda,  with  Perseus  nigh, 

Forgets  that  haunted  cliff's  despair, 
Unknowing  that  we  live  and  die. 

Our  pain,  our  passion  they  deny, 

Nor  Love  that  outlives  Death,  their  share. 

The  sUent  stars  burn  in  the  sky. 
Unknowing  that  we  live  and  die. 

— Samuel  Scoville,  Jr. 

The  Triolet  consists  of  eight  lines  with  two  rhymes.  The 
first  line  is  used  again  as  the  fourth  and  seventh  line.  The 
second  line  is  repeated  as  the  eighth  line  and  conclusion  of 
the  poem.  It  is  desirable  to  vary  the  significance  of  the 
recurrent  lines  if  possible. 

There  are  hundreds  of  English  triolets,  but  most  of  them 
are  content  to  obey  the  rule  of  repetition  and  make  no 
attempt  to  gain  the  more  subtle  grace  of  a  varied  use  of  the 
same  line. 

Triolet 

When  first  we  met,  we  did  not  guess 

That  Love  would  prove  so  hard  a  master; 

Of  more  than  common  friendliness 

When  first  we  met  we  did  not  guess. 

Who  could  foretell  the  sore  distress, 
This  irretrievable  disaster, 

When  first  we  met? — we  did  not  guess 

That  Love  would  prove  so  hard  a  master. 

— Robert  Bridges. 


202  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

The  Kyrielle  is  so  simple  in  construction  that  it  hardly 
seems  in  place  among  its  more  elaborate  relatives.  It  con- 
sists merely  of  any  number  of  four-line  stanzas,  rhymed  in 
couplets,  the  last  line  of  each  stanza  being  the  same.  Origi- 
nally it  was  always  written  in  eight-syllable  lines.  The 
name  kyrielle  is  a  shortened  form  of  Kyrie  Eleison,  (O  Lord 
have  mercy!)  one  of  the  responses  of  the  Roman  Liturgy. 
These  responses  were  usually  sung,  the  musical  setting  to 
which  they  were  simg  was  called  Kyrielle,  and  the  name 
was  finally  applied  to  another  set  of  words  with  a  refrain. 
The  form  is  preserved  in  a  number  of  Anglican  hymns.  The 
following  example  has  seven  syllables. 

The  Pavilion 

(Kyrielle) 

In  the  tents  the  lamps  were  bright. 
Out  beyond  the  summer  night 
Thrilled  and  quivered  Hke  a  star: 
We  beneath  were  left  so  far. 

From  the  depths  of  blue  profound 
Never  any  sight  or  sound 
Came  our  loneliness  to  mar: 
We  beneath  were  left  so  far. 

But  against  the  summer  sky 
Only  you  stood  out  and  I ; 
From  all  other  things  that  are 
We  beneath  were  left  so  far. 

— A.  Mary  F.  Robinson. 


FRENCH   FORMS  203 

The  Virelai  and  Virelai  Nouveau  have  never  become 
popular  in  English,  perhaps  because  of  their  monotony. 
In  the  virelai  the  number  of  stanzas  is  not  fixed  nor  is  the 
number  of  lines  in  a  stanza.  The  rhyme  sequence  is  a,  a, 
&, — a,  a,  b, — a,  a,  b,  in  multiples  of  three  for  the  first 
stanza,  b,  b,  c, — b,  b,  c, — b,  b,  c,  in  the  second,  c,  c, 
d, — c,  c,  d, — c,  c,  d,  in  the  third  and  so  on  for  as  long  as 
the  poet's  invention  holds  out.  We  give  two  stanzas  to 
show  the  structure. 

Spring  Sadness 
(Virelai) 

As  I  sat  sorrowing. 

Love  came  and  bade  me  sing 
A  joyous  song  and  meet. 

For  see  (said  he)  each  thing 

Is  merry  for  the  spring, 
And  every  bird  doth  greet 
The  break  of  blossoming, 
That  all  the  woodlands  ring 
Unto  the  young  hours'  feet. 

Wherefore  put  off  defeat 

And  rouse  thee  to  repeat 

The  chimes  of  merles  that  go, 

With  flutings  shrill  and  sweet, 

In  every  green  retreat. 

The  tune  of  streams  that  flow 
And  mark  the  fair  hours'  beat 


204  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

With  nmning  ripples  fleet 
And  breezes  soft  and  low. 
*        *        * 

— John  Payne. 

The  Virelai  Nouveau  has  but  two  rhymes.  It  begins 
with  a  couplet.  The  order  of  the  rhyme  and  the  length  of 
the  stanzas  are  not  fixed,  but  the  two  lines  of  the  opening 
couplet,  used  alternately,  form  the  refrain  to  the  other 
stanzas,  and  both  together  close  the  last  stanza. 

Virelai  Nouveau 
Good-bye  to  the  Town !  good-bye ! 
Hurrah!  for  the  sea  and  the  sky! 
In  the  street  the  flower-girls  cry; 
In  the  street  the  water  carts  ply: 
And  a  fluter,  with  features  awry. 
Plays  fitfully,  "Scots  wha  hae" — 
And  the  throat  of  that  fluter  is  dry; 
Good-bye  to  the  Town!    good-bye! 

And  over  the  roof-tops  nigh 
Comes  a  waft  like  a  dream  of  the  May; 
And  a  lady-bird  lit  on  my  tie ; 
And  a  cockchafer  came  with  the  tray; 
And  a  butterfly  (no  one  knows  why) 
Mistook  my  Aunt's  cap  for  a  spray; 
And  "next  door"  and  "over  the  way" 
The  neighbors  take  wing  and  fly: 
Hurrah  for  the  sea  and  the  sky. 

****** 

****** 


FRENCH   FORMS  20$ 

So  Phillis,  the  fawn-footed,  hie 
For  a  hansom.    Ere  close  of  the  day 
Between  us  a  "world"  must  lie; 
Good-bye  to  the  Town!  good-bye! 
Hurrah!  for  the  sea  and  the  sky, 

— Austin  Dobson. 

The  Chant  Royal  was  the  most  complicated  measure  of 
northern  France  as  the  sestina  was  of  southern.  Mr.  Gosse 
calls  it  "the  final  tour-de-force,  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  legiti- 
mate difiiculty  in  the  construction  of  a  poem;"  but  it  is 
neither  so  intricate  nor  so  difl&cult  as  the  sestina.  It  is  an 
enlarged  and  elaborated  form  of  ballade  and  was  used  for 
stately  and  heroic  subjects.  It  contains  five  stanzas  of 
eleven  lines  each  and  an  envoy  of  five  lines  beginning  with 
an  invocation  like  the  envoys  of  ballades. 

Five  rhymes  are  employed  in  the  order  a,  b,  a,  b,  c,  c 
d,  d,  e,  d,  e,  with  an  envoy  of  d,  d,  e,  d,  e.  The  rhyme- 
scheme  of  all  the  stanzas  is  identical  and  no  rhyming  word 
may  be  used  a  second  time.  The  last  line  of  each  stanza 
and  of  the  envoy  is  formed  by  the  refrain. 

Chant  Royal 
To  F.  H.  W. 

The  royal  songs  that  men  have  simg  abide. 

Look  down  the  cloudy  vista  of  the  years, 
And  where  huge  wars  dim  phantom  kings  divide, 

The  hostage  was  the  singer,  so  appears 
At  last  a  gilded  helm  from  out  the  gloom 
And  Agamemnon  rises,  and  a  plume 


2o6  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Comes  forth  to  meet  him  confident,  elate, 
And  Hector  strides  to  meet  relentless  fate. 

What  forges  for  us  all  the  arms  they  bore? 
What  shows  us  all  their  glory  and  their  state? 

The  royal  songs  that  men  have  sung  of  yore. 

The  shouts  of  war,  and  battle  din  subside; 

The  clang  of  harness  and  the  clash  of  spears; 
And  now  arise  to  comfort  and  to  guide, 

The  songs  men  hear  with  thankfulness  and  tears; 
What  kings  are  these,  with  harp  in  hand,  for  whom 
The  noblest  bards  of  all  the  earth  make  room? 

Who  sing  the  King  of  kings,  the  Potentate 

Of  glory,  and  the  bridegroom  and  his  mate. 
O  song  of  songs !   The  nations  evermore 

With  centuries  of  worship  consecrate 
The  royal  songs  that  men  have  sung  of  yore. 

No  longer  from  the  palaces  of  pride 

The  singer  comes;  but,  followed  by  the  sneers 
Of  scornful  men,  he  wanders  far  and  wide. 

An  exile,  bearing  grief,  and  taunts,  and  jeers. 
And  weight  of  his  own  soul  which  is  his  doom. 
Afar  from  Florence  even  in  the  tomb ; 

Yet  no  man  dares  to  call  him  desolate, 

Who  gained  the  eternal  city  by  the  gate 
Of  dolor  and  the  Acheron tian  shore; 

We  hail  him  master  when  we  celebrate 
The  royal  songs  that  men  have  sung  of  yore. 


FRENCH  FORMS  207 

Now  Cometh  one  by  deepest  woes  untried, 

With  divers  merry  tales  that  whoso  hears, 
Shall  ever  see  those  joctmd  pilgrims  ride, 

And  better  love  his  feUow,  who  endears 
To  us  plain  himiankind,  knight,  priest  or  groom; 
And  after  him  two  lofty  shadows  loom 

For  England's  praise,  one  mighty  to  create 

Her  kings  again  and  one  to  vindicate 
God's  ways  and  hell  and  heaven  to  explore : 

Their  names  shall  ring  where'er  reverberate 
The  royal  songs  that  men  have  sung  of  yore. 

And  in  a  later  day  shall  it  betide 

That  silence  shall  await  our  wistful  ears? 

Nay  bright  and  beautiful  behold  them  glide, 
Shelley  and  Keats,  to  mingle  with  their  peers; 

Where  Fame's  great  bells  with  solemn  anthem  boom, 

They  shall  be  counted  worthy,  nor  presume, 
Those  two  hearts  yoimg  and  high  and  passionate, 
With  Wordsworth  and  that  later  Laureate 

Who  heard  with  steady  soul  the  steersman's  oar, 
And  he,  dispraised,  who  won  the  crowns  that_^wait 

The  royal  songs  that  men  have  sung  of  yore. 

ENVOY 

Friend,  in  whose  verse  the  spirit  and  perfume 
Of  noble  thoughts  and  fair  perfection  bloom, 
In  loving  thrall  to  beauty  dedicate, 
Be  of  good  cheer  and  let  thy  heart  dilate 


208  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

With  joy,  nor  fear  oblivion's  fatal  door 

When  thine  shall  be,  with  all  the  good  and  great, 
The  royal  songs  that  men  have  sung  of  yore. 

— M.  E.  R. 

The  Sestina  originated  in  Provence  at  the  end  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  was  one  of  the  intricate  measures 
in  which  the  Troubadours  delighted. 

It  was  invented  by  that  Arnaut  Daniel  whom  Dante 
praises  in  the  "  Purgatorio, "  and  whom  Petrarch  calls  the 
"great  master  of  love." 

The  sestina  is  the  most  complicated  and  arbitrary  of  all 
the  artificial  meters,  being  a  mathematical  puzzle  as  well 
as  a  poem.  As  its  name  implies,  it  is  governed  by  the 
number  six.  It  consists  of  six  stanzas  of  six  lines  each  and 
a  final  stanza  of  three  lines.  The  lines  are  of  equal  length. 
The  same  six  terminal  words  are  used  in  each  stanza  but  in 
a  different  sequence  which  is  absolutely  prescribed  by  rule. 
The  same  six  words  are  repeated  in  the  middle  of  the  line 
and  as  the  terminals  of  the  concluding  three-line  stanza. 
Sestinas  were  imrhymed.  Swinburne  has  written  rhymed 
sestinas,  but  even  in  his  hands  the  rhyme  adds  to  the 
monotony  and  rather  detracts  from  the  charm.  This  old 
measure  is  put  to  successful  modern  use  in  Mr.  Kipling's 
■"Sestina  of  the  Tramp  Royal. " 

The  following  is  the  order  of  the  terminals : 


FRENCH  FORMS  209 

1  stanza    123456 

2  "    615243 

3  "  364125 

4  *'  532614 

5  "  451362 

6  "  246531 

In  the  concluding  three-line  stanza  they  run  2,  5, — 4,  3, 
-6,  I. 

Sestina 

In  fair  Provence,  the  land  of  lute  and  rose, 
Arnaut,  great  master  of  the  lore  of  love, 
First  wrought  sestines  to  win  his  lady's  heart, 
For  she  was  deaf  when  simpler  staves  he  sang, 
And  for  her  sake  he  broke  the  bonds  of  rhyme. 
And  in  this  subtler  measure  hid  his  woe. 

"Harsh  be  my  lines, "  cried  Arnaut,  "harsh  the  woe. 
My  lady,  that  enthroned  and  cruel  rose, 
Inflicts  on  him  that  made  her  live  in  rhyme!" 
But  through  the  meter  spoke  the  voice  of  Love, 
And  like  a  wildwood  nightingale  he  sang 
Who  thought  in  crabbed  lays  to  ease  his  heart. 

It  is  not  told  if  her  untoward  heart 

Was  melted  by  her  poet's  lyric  woe, 

Or  if  in  vain  so  amorously  he  sang. 

Perchance  through  crowd  of  dark  conceits  he  rose 

To  nobler  heights  of  philosophic  love. 

And  crowned  his  later  years  with  sterner  rhyme. 


2IO  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

This  thing  alone  we  know,  the  triple  rhyme 
Of  him  who  bared  his  vast  and  passionate  heart 
To  all  the  crossing  flames  of  hate  and  love, 
Wears  in  the  midst  of  all  its  storm  and  woe — 
As  some  loud  mom  of  March  may  bear  a  rose — 
The  impress  of  a  song  that  Arnaut  sang, 

"  Smith  of  his  mother- tongue, "  the  Frenchman  sang 
Of  Lancelot  and  of  Galahad,  the  rhyme 
That  beat  so  bloodlike  at  its  core  of  rose, 
It  stirred  the  sweet  Francesca's  gentle  heart 
To  take  that  kiss  that  brought  her  so  much  woe, 
And  sealed  in  fire  her  martyrdom  of  love. 

And  Dante,  full  of  her  immortal  love, 

Stayed  his  drear  song,  and  softly,  fondly  sang 

As  though  his  voice  broke  with  that  weight  of  woe; 

And  to  this  day  we  think  of  Arnaut's  rhyme, 

Whenever  pity  at  the  laboring  heart 

On  fair  Francesca's  memory  drops  the  rose. 

Ah !  sovereign  Love,  forgive  this  weaker  rhyme ! 
The  men  of  old  who  sang  were  great  at  heart. 
Yet  have  we  too  known  woe,  and  worn  thy  rose. 

— Edmund  Gosse. 

The  Pantoum  originated  in  Malaysia,  where  it  is  said  to 
have  been  improvised  to  the  beating  of  a  tom-tom.  By 
reason  of  its  adoption  in  France  by  Victor  Hugo  and  other 
poets,  it  is  included  under  French  forms.  It  is  supposed  to 
be  particularly  suited  to  the  rendering  of  a  monotonous 


FRENCH    FORMS  211 

subject.  It  consists  of  any  number  of  four-line  stanzas, 
the  second  and  fourth  Hne  of  each  stanza  being  repeated 
as  the  first  and  third  of  the  following  stanza,  and  the  second 
and  fourth  line  of  the  last  stanza  being  formed  from  the 
third  and  first  of  the  first  stanza. 


MONOLOGUE  D'OUTRE  TOMBE 

(Pantoum) 

Morning  and  noon  and  night. 

Here  I  lie  in  the  ground. 
No  faintest  glimmer  of  light, 
No  lightest  whisper  of  sound. 

Here  I  lie  in  the  ground. 

The  worms  glide  out  and  in. 

No  lightest  whisper  of  sound. 
After  a  lifelong  din. 
*        *        * 

The  worms  are  wriggling  away. 
They  are  what  I  have  been; 

They  will  fertilize  my  clay; 

The  grass  will  grow  more  green. 

They  are  what  I  have  been, 
I  shall  change,  but  what  of^that? 

The  grass  will  grow  more  green 
The  parson's  sheep  grow  fat. 


212  THE  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

I  shall  change,  but  what  of  that? 

All  flesh  is  grass,  one  says. 
The  parson's  sheep  grow  fat, 

The  parson  grows  in  grace. 

All  flesh  is  grass,  one  says; 

Grass  becomes  flesh,  one  knows; 
The  parson  grows  in  grace; 

I  am  the  grace  he  grows. 

Grass  becomes  flesh,  one  knows. 
He  grows  like  a  bull  of  Bashan, 

I  am  the  grace  he  grows, 
I  startle  his  congregation. 

He  grows  like  a  bull  of  Bashan, 
One  day  he'll  be  Bishop  or  Dean, 

I  startle  his  congregation; 
One  day  I  shall  preach  to  the  Queen. 

One  day  he'll  be  Bishop  or  Dean, 
One  of  those  science-haters; 

One  day  I  shall  preach  to  the  Queen, 
To  think  of  my  going  in  gaiters! 

One  of  those  science-haters, 
Blind  as  a  mole  or  bat; 

To  think  of  my  going  in  gaiters, 
And  wearing  a  shovel  hat! 


FRENCH   FORMS  213 

Blind  as  a  mole  or  bat, 

No  faintest  glimmer  of  light, 
And  wearing  a  shovel  hat. 

Morning  and  noon  and  night. 

— ^^Love  in  Idleness.''^ 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Write  a  paragraph  on  the  comparative  values  of 
French,  English  and  Classical  meters. 

2.  Are  involved  meters  well  fitted  for  the  expression  of 
emotional  thought,  or  should  we  regard  them  rather  as 
intellectual  exercises? 

3.  Which  form  discussed  in  the  chapter  seems  to  you 
best  fitted  for  the  conveyance  of  dignified  thought? 

4.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  tercet? 

5.  What  constitutes  an  envoy  to  a  poem? 

6.  Define  (o)  a  Ballade;  {h)  a  Rondeau. 

7.  Write  a  Villanelle  upon  a  pastoral  theme  of  your  own 
selection. 

8.  Which  "French  form"  suits  your  own  fancy  best? 

9.  Discuss  briefly  what  types  of  themes  would  be  best 
suited  to  any  three  French  forms. 

10.  Choosing  your  own  form  from  among  the  models  in 
this  chapter,  write  the  introductory  stanzas  of  a  poem  and 
give  an  idea  of  how  you  would  handle  the  body  of  the  poem 
and  its  conclusion. 

11.  If  time  affords,  complete  the  poem. 

12.  Transfer  the  same  theme  to  some  other  French  form, 
if  practicable. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SONG-WRITING 

I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For,  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight. 

I  breathed  a  song  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong. 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  song? 

Long,  long  afterward,  in  an  oak 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unbroke; 
And  the  song,  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend. 

— H.  W.  Longfellow,  The  Arrow  and  the  Song. 

The  poetic  song,  being  definitely  composed  for  musical 
accompaniment,  is  the  true  lyric,  and  is  often  so  named 
today.  But,  especially  in  the  librettos  of  comic  operas  and 
musical  comedies,  the  term  lyric  is  gratuitously  applied  to 
light  verse,  which  may  adopt  such  tones  as  sentiment, 
humor,  satire,  vers  de  societe,  nonsense,  parody,  burlesque 
and  whimsicality. 

A  good  lyric  is  not  necessarily  a  good  song.  Song- 
writing  demands  some  knowledge  of,  or  at  least  an  ear  for 
music,  although  other  kinds  of  lyric  poetry  do  not.  Shelley, 
the  supreme  lyrist,  knew  nothing  of  music,  and  some  of  his 
lyrics  are  almost  unsingable.    The  best  song- writers  usually 


SONG- WRITING  215 

sang  their  own  songs.  Burns,  the  most  spontaneous  poet  of 
Great  Britain,  found  little  use  for  the  names  of  trochee, 
dactyl,  amphimacer,  and  the  like,  and  had  his  fling  at  the 
poets  who 

Think  to  climb  Parnassus 
By  dint  of  Greek. 

He  fitted  his  lines  to  well-known  tunes  and  sang  them 
himself.    So  also  did  Tom  Moore. 

In  the  days  of  Elizabeth  and  after  the  Restoration,  in 
the  time  of  Charles  II,  well  nigh  every  English  gentleman 
could  write  a  song,  both  words  and  music,  and  play  and 
sing  it  as  well.  To  the  general  cultivation  of  "chamber- 
music"  in  those  reigns,  we  owe  a  rich  store  of  song-lyrics, 
to  coin  a  seemingly  redundant  expression.  In  later  times? 
Browning  was  something  of  a  musician,  and  our  own 
Sidney  Lanier  tried  to  fit  the  rules  of  music  to  the  art  of 
poetry,  not  always  with  perfect  success,  but  the  songs 
of  Browning  and  of  Lanier  are  not  particularly  singable. 
The  reason  is  that  the  writers  had  not  in  mind  the  require- 
ments of  the  singing  voice,  and  too  often  grouped  words 
which  read  well,  but  did  not  sing  well. 

General  Hints 

In  singing,  one  must  open  one's  mouth,  therefore  the 
more  vowel  sounds  in  a  song  the  better,  the  more  open 
vowel  sounds  (a  and  o)  the  better  still,  and  the  more  ter- 
minal vowel  sounds,  by  all  odds  still  the  better  because 
if  a  note  has  to  be  prolonged  the  meaning  of  the  word  need 
not  then  be  lost.    This  requirement,  besides  those  of  sim- 


2l6  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

plicity,  sentiment,  and  rhythm,  is  fundamental  to  all  good 
song  making. 

Crowded  consonants  and  words  ending  in  the  labials 
p,  b  and  m,  and  the  fricative/,  all  of  which  close  the  lips, 
should  be  absolutely  avoided. 

A  short  line  is  preferable  to  a  long  one. 

A  taking  rhythm — a  rhythm  with  a  lilt — should  be 
chosen. 

In  literary  form,  make  every  word  count,  yet  do  not 
compress  your  language  so  as  to  obscure  the  meaning. 

The  refrain  may  often  be  used  with  good  effect. 

The  best  method  of  all  is  to  choose  an  air  and  fit  your 
words  to  it,  for  if  the  song  does  not  sing  itself,  no  one  will 
sing  it. 

Observe  the  simplicity,  clearness,  compact  form, 
rhythm,  sentiment,  and  charm  of  the  following  songs 
which  have  long  been  favorites.  Observe,  too,  those  of  you 
who  know  familiar  settings  for  these  songs,  how  even  more 
smoothly  they  sing  than  they  read. 

O,  My  Luve's  Like  a  Red,  Red  Rose 

O,  my  luve's  like  a  red,  red  rose 
That's  newly  sprung  in  June: 

O,  my  luve's  like  the  melodic 
That's  sweetly  played  in  tune. 

As  fair  art  thou,  my  bonnie  lass, 

So  deep  in  luve  am  I : 
And  I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear. 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry. 


SONG- WRITING  2 1 7 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear, 

And  rocks  melt  wi'  the  sun: 
And  I  will  luve  thee  still,  my  dear, 

While  the  sands  of  life  shall  run. 

And  fare  thee  weel,  my  only  Luve ! 

And  fare  thee  weel  awhile ! 
And  I  will  come  again,  my  Luve, 

Tho'  it  were  ten  thousand  mile. 

— Robert  Burns. 


Kathleen  Mavourneen 

Kathleen  Mavourneen!  the  gray  dawn  is  breaking. 
The  horn  of  the  hunter  is  heard  on  the  hill; 

The  lark  from  her  light  wing  the  bright  dew  is  shaking- 
Kathleen  Mavourneen!   what,  slumbering  still? 

Oh,  hast  thou  forgotten  how  soon  we  must  sever? 

Oh!  hast  thou  forgotten  this  day  we  must  part? 
It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  forever! 

Oh,  why  art  thou  silent,  thou  voice  of  my  heart? 
Oh,  why  art  thou  silent,  Kathleen  Mavourneen? 

Kathleen  Mavourneen,  awake  from  thy  slumbers! 

The  blue  mountains  glow  in  the  sun's  golden  light; 
Ah,  where  is  the  spell  that  once  hung  on  my  numbers? 

Arise  in  thy  beauty,  thou  star  of  my  night! 


2l8  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

Mavoumeen,  Mavourneen,  my  sad  tears  are  falling, 
To  think  that  from  Erin  and  thee  I  must  part! 

It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  forever! 
Then  why  art  thou  silent,  thou  voice  of  my  heart? 

Then  why  art  thou  silent,  Kathleen  Mavourneen? 

— Louisa  Macartney  Crawford. 

Serenade 
(From  "The  Spanish  Student") 

Stars  of  the  summer  night! 

Far  in  yon  azure  deeps, 
Hide,  hide  your  golden  light! 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps ! 

Sleeps ! 

Moon  of  the  summer  night! 

Far  down  yon  western  steeps, 
Sink,  sink  in  silver  light! 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps! 

Sleeps! 

Wind  of  the  summer  night! 

Where  yonder  woodbine  creeps, 
Fold,  fold  thy  pinions  light ! 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps! 

Sleeps ! 


SONG- WRITING  219 

Dreams  of  the  summer  night! 

Tell  her,  her  lover  keeps 
Watch,  while  in  slumbers  light 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps ! 

Sleeps! 

— Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Is  the  expression  song-lyric  really  redundant? 

2.  What  constitutes  the  refrain  of  a  song?  Give  an 
example. 

3.  (a)  Distinguish  between  refrain  and  chorus,  (b)  Is 
the  word  chorus  ever  improperly  used? 

4.  Which  vowel  sound  is  best  fitted  for  the  last  position 
in  a  line,  particularly  when  the  tune  is  likely  to  provide  a 
sustained  note? 

5.  What  other  vowel  sounds  are  desirable  there? 

6.  What  class  of  sounds  should  be  avoided  at  the  ends 

of  lines? 

7.  Is  alliteration  desirable  in  the  lines  of  a  song?  Give 
reasons  supporting  your  answer. 

8.  As  liberal  awards  await  writers  of  successful  "popu- 
lar" songs,  it  is  well  to  study  the  words  of  such  songs,  and 
to  determine  the  qualities  in  which  they  frequently  re- 
semble one  another;  as,  for  instance,  in  a  chorus  composed 
largely  of  dactyls  appropriate  to  waltz  music.  Therefore 
write  an  analysis  of  a  "song  hit"  of  the  day. 

9.  Write  a  rollicking  song  upon  some  stirring,  out-of- 
doors  theme. 


220  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

10.  Give  several  original  themes  for  songs. 

11.  What  is  a  hymn? 

12.  Write  a  hymn  of  patriotism.  The  suggestion  has 
been  hazarded  that  America's  greatest  national  hynm  has 
yet  to  be  written. 

13.  Do  you  know  of  any  so-called  hymns  which  are 
merely  versified  sentiment,  without  any  direct  appeal  to 
the  Deity? 

14.  Examine  a  standard  hymn-book  and  make  a  care- 
ful analysis  of  (a)  the  poetry  of  the  best  hymns,  like 
"Lead,  Kindly  Light;"  (b)  the  adaptation  of  meters  to 
words,  or  vice  versa;  (c)  what  meters  are  best  suited  to 
solemn  and  majestic  hymns,  and  what  are  best  fitted  to 
livelier  sentiments. 

15.  Make  a  scrap-book  collection  of  as  many  hymn 
meters  as  you  can  gather,  affixing  to  each  an  analysis  of 
the  accents,  or  beats  of  the  musical  rhythm. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


LIGHT   VERSE 

A  comic  subject  loves  an  humble  verse. 

— Horace,  Ars  Poetica. 

They  tell  me  new  methods  now  govern  the  Muses, 

The  modes  of  expression  have  changed  with  the  times; 
That  low  is  the  rank  of  the  poet  who  uses 

The   old-fashioned  verse  with   intentional   rhymes. 
And  quite  out  of  date  is  rhythmical  metre; 

The  critics  declare  it  an  insult  to  art. 
But  oh!  the  sweet  swing  of  it,  oh!  the  clear  ring  of  it, 

Oh!  the  great  pulse  of  it,  right  from  the  heart. 
Art  or  no  art. 

I  sat  by  the  side  of  that  old  poet,  Ocean, 

And  counted  the  billows  that  broke  on  the  rocks; 
The  tide  lilted  in  with  a  rhythmical  motion; 

The  sea-gulls  dipped  downward  in  time-keeping  flocks. 
I  watched  while  a  giant  wave  gathered  its  forces. 

And  then  on  the  gray  granite  precipice  burst; 
And  I  knew  as  I  counted,  while  other  waves  mounted, 

I  knew  the  tenth  billow  would  rhyme  with  the  first. 

Below  in  the  village  a  church-bell  was  chiming. 

And  back  in  the  woodland  a  little  bird  sang; 
And,  doubt  it  who  will,  yet  those  two  sounds  were  rhyming, 

As  out  o'er  the  hill-tops  they  echoed  and  rang. 
The  Winds  and  the  Trees  fell  to  talking  together; 

And  nothing  they  said  was  didactic  or  terse; 
But  everything  spoken  was  told  in  unbroken 

And  beautiful  rhyming  and  rhythmical  verse. 


2  22  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

So  rhythm  I  hail  it,  though  critics  assail  it, 

And  hold  melting  rhymes  as  an  insult  to  art, 
For  oh!  the  sweet  swing  of  it,  oh!  the  dear  ring  of  it. 
Oh!  the  strong  pulse  of  it,  right  from  the  heart, 
Art  or  no  art. 
— Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox,  in  Lippincotf  s  Magazine. 

We  always  invite  difl&culties  when  we  attempt  to  make 
hard  and  fast  classifications  under  a  broad  general  subject, 
and  this  is  especially  the  case  when  the  subject  itself  is 
not  one  of  clearly  marked  boundaries.  So  as  we  consider 
light  verse  under  several  rather  obvious  sub-heads,  it 
must  be  kept  in  mind  that  these  divisions  cannot  always 
be  clearly  separated  from  each  other — chiefly  because  one 
piece  of  verse  may  readily  bear  marks  of  two  or  three  sorts, 
even  when  it  clearly  belongs  primarily  to  one  class. 

Very  little  light  verse  may  justly  aspire  to  be  classed  as 
poetry,  yet  most  of  the  great  poets  of  all  time — among 
them  Aristophanes,  Horace,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Col- 
eridge, Burns,  Keats,  Henley,  Mrs.  Browning,  Holmes, 
Taylor,  Longfellow,  and  Emerson — have  written  delight- 
fully in  lighter  vein,  even  those  whose  names  are  glorious 
for  sublime  poetic  achievement  frivoling  as  playfully  as 
their  less  serious  brothers.  The  fact  that  one  is  a  distin- 
guished poet  offers,  therefore,  no  guarantee  that  all  his 
verse  is  poetry. 

Light  verse  offers  a  wider  range  of  form  than  does  even 
real  poetry,  for  it  is  obvious  that,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
parodist  may  imitate  every  form  known  to  the  poets  while 
the  whimsical  rhymster  will  invent  new  conceits  every 
day.  At  once  the  broadest  and  highest-grade  group  of 
light  verse  is  known  as 


LIGHT  VERSE  223 

I.  Vers  de  Societe 

For  this  term  it  is  difficult  to  find  a  precise  English 
equivalent.  No  single  word  quite  includes  or  describes  it, 
so  we  may  say  that  vers  de  societe  is  not  merely  "society 
verse,"  as  a  literal  translation  would  suggest,  but  short, 
light,  sentimental  or  playful  verse  of  no  profound  poetic 
quality,  and  breathing  an  air  of  polite  knowledge  of  the  world. 

Verse  of  this  sort  is  pleasantly  plentiful — collectors^  have 
filled  volumes  with  graceful  specimens.  Some  critics 
maintain  that  its  themes  should  be  confined  to  the  world 
of  fashion,  but  most  do  not  limit  it  so  closely.  It  is  certain , 
however,  that  an  intimacy  with  "Society"  is  almost 
essential  for  the  successful  writer  of  these  sophisticated 
verses,  which  usually  celebrate  my  lady's  charms,  or  some 
other  theme  akin  to  love. 

Touching  the  composition  of  such  verse,  in  her  "A  Vers 
de  Societe  Anthology,"  Miss  Wells  quotes  these  remarks 
from  Mr.  Locker-Lampson :  "The  tone  should  not  be 
pitched  high;  it  should  be  terse  and  idiomatic,  and  rather 
in  the  conversational  key;  the  rhythm  should  be  crisp  and 
sparkling,  and  the  rhyme  frequent  and  never  forced.  The 
entire  poem  should  be  marked  by  tasteful  moderation, 
high  finish,  and  completeness;  for  subordination  to  the 
rules  of  composition,  and  perfection  of  execution,  are  of  the 
utmost  importance. 

"The  qualities  of  brevity  are  absolutely  essential.    The 

poem  may  be  tinctured  with  a  well-bred  philosophy,  it  may 

be  whimsically  sad,  it  may  be  gay  and  gallant,  it  may  be 

>  Carolyn  Wells,  Brander  Matthews,  Frederick  Locker-Lamp- 
son, Austin  Dobson,  and  W.  Davenport  Adams,  among  others. 


224  THE  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

plaj^ully  malicious  or  tenderly  ironical,  it  may  display 
lively  banter,  and  it  may  be  satirically  facetious;  it  may 
even,  considering  it  merely  as  a  work  of  art,  be  pagan  in 
its  philosophy  or  trifling  in  its  tone,  but  it  must  never  be 
flat,  or  ponderous,  or  commonplace." 

These  are  rather  broad  permissions,  and  probably  less 
valuable  than  the  final  prohibition,  but  they  will  serve  to 
indicate  the  easy,  spontaneous,  middle-ground  between 
the  solemn  and  the  comic,  the  maudlin  and  the  cynical, 
which  is  occupied  by  vers  de  societe. 

In  form  there  is  equal  latitude,  though  the  French 
meters  are  favorites  with  most  of  the  poets.  Thackeray's 
"The  Ballad  of  Bouillabaisse,"  Alfred  Austin's  "At  the 
Lattice,"  and  Longfellow's  "Beware,"  are  among  the 
most  famous  specimens  in  the  language.  The  last-named 
we  give  in  full,  together  with  some  other  representative 
examples. 

Beware 

(From  the  German) 

I  know  a  maiden  fair  to  see, 

Take  care! 
She  can  both  false  and  friendly  be. 

Beware!  Beware! 

Trust  her  not, 
She  is  fooling  thee! 

She  has  two  eyes,  so  soft  and  brown, 
Take  care! 


LIGHT   VERSE  225 

She  gives  a  side-glance  and  looks  down, 

Beware!    Beware! 

Trust  her  not, 
She  is  fooling  thee ! 

And  she  has  hair  of  a  golden  hue, 

Take  care! 
And  what  she  says,  it  is  not  true. 

Beware!    Beware! 

Trust  her  not. 
She  is  fooling  thee! 

She  has  a  bosom  white  as  snow, 

Take  care. 
She  knows  how  much  it  is  best  to  show. 

Beware!    Beware! 

Trust  her  not. 
She  is  fooling  thee ! 

She  gives  thee  a  garland  woven  fair, 

Take  care! 
It's  a  fool's  cap  for  thee  to  wear. 

Beware !    Beware ! 

Trust  her  not. 
She  is  fooling  thee ! 

— Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

My  Chaperon 

No  Dragon  is  my  chaperon ; 
She's  full  of  life  and  charm. 


226  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

She  has  a  method  all  her  own 

To  hold  me  safe  from  harm. 
It  is  a  method  very  wise, 

Though  simple  as  can  be: 
When  men  come  by  she  makes  such  eyes 

They  never  look  at  me. 

— Anne  Warrington  Withrup. 

Song  from  "The  Duenna" 

I  ne'er  could  any  lustre  see 

In  eyes  that  would  not  look  on  me; 

I  ne'er  saw  nectar  on  a  lip, 

But  where  my  own  did  hope  to  sip. 

Has  the  maid  who  seeks  my  heart 

Cheeks  of  rose,  untouched  by  art? 

I  will  own  thy  color  true. 

When  yielding  blushes  aid  their  hue. 

« 
Is  her  hand  so  soft  and  pure? 

I  must  press  it,  to  be  sure; 

Nor  can  I  be  certain  then, 

Till  it,  grateful,  press  again. 

Must  I,  with  attentive  eye. 

Watch  her  heaving  bosom  sigh? 

I  will  do  so  when  I  see 

That  heaving  bosom  sigh  for  me. 

— Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan. 

The  first  stanza  of  Thackeray's  "The  Ballad  of  Bouilla- 
baisse" will  be  enough  to  suggest  its  theme  and  treatment: 


LIGHT   VERSE  227 

A  Street  there  is  in  Paris  famous, 

For  which  no  rhyme  our  language  yields, 
Rue  Neuve  des  Petits  Champs  its  name  is — 

The  New  Street  of  the  Little  Fields. 
And  here's  an  inn,  not  rich  and  splendid, 

But  still  in  comfortable  case; 
The  which  in  youth  I  oft  attended 

To  eat  a  bowl  of  Bouillabaisse. 

Here  are  the  opening  stanzas  of  Austin  Dobson's 
"Le  Roman  de  la  Rose" 

Poor  Rose!    I  lift  you  from  the  street, — 

Far  better  I  should  own  you 
Than  you  should  lie  for  random  feet 

Where  careless  hands  have  thrown  you. 

Poor  pinky  petals,  crushed  and  torn ! 

Did  heartless  Mayfair  use  you. 
Then  cast  you  forth  to  lie  forlorn. 

For  chariot- wheels  to  bruise  you? 

The  remaining  six  stanzas  lightly  touch  the  love  interest 
which  the  finding  of  the  rose  suggests. 

2.  Satirical  Verse 


Wit  consists  in  the  sudden  revelation  of  some  unexpected 
relation  between  two  objects  or  ideas.  This  surprising 
disclosure  must  not  excite  any  higher  emotion  than  ad- 
miration for  the  cleverness  of  the  witty  person  and  for  his 


228  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

mental  superiority;  for  example,  wit  does  not  arouse 
feelings  of  the  sublime,  the  pitiful,  or  the  tenderly  beauti- 
ful. It  differs  from  humor  mainly  in  its  sharpness.  Some- 
one has  said  that  "wit  laughs  at  you,  humor  laughs  with 
you."  Wit  is  based  chiefly  on  likenesses,  humor  on  in- 
congruities. Wit  may  sneer,  but  humor  never.  Wit  often 
wounds  with  its  keen  rapier,  humor  heals  with  its  balm. 
The  following  variously-quoted  couplet  is  satirically  witty: 

A  woman,  a  spaniel,  a  walnut  tree — 

The  more  you  beat  'em,  the  better  they  be. 

Whereas  the  incongruous  association  of  moral  qualities 
with  oddities  of  dress  in  Albert  G.  Greene's  perennial 
"Old  Grimes"  is  humorous: 

Old  Grimes  is  dead,  that  good  old  man, — 

We  ne'er  shall  see  him  more; 
He  used  to  wear  a  long  black  coat. 

All  buttoned  down  before. 

Whene'er  he  heard  the  voice  of  pain, 

His  breast  with  pity  burned; 
The  large  round  head  upon  his  cane 

From  ivory  was  turned. 

Satire  is  a  form  of  wit  which  exposes  follies  and  makes 
pretension  ridiculous.  Its  object,  like  that  of  true  comedy, 
is  to  instruct  by  showing  the  folly  of  imprudent  courses, 
but  that  purpose  is  often  lost  sight  of  today. 

Satirical  poetry  is  very  ancient.  The  Greek  comedies 
abounded   in   brilliant   examples.     Horace   and   Juvenal 


LIGHT   VERSE  229 

have  made  Roman  poetry  immortal,  Voltaire  has  caused 
French  verse  to  sparkle,  while  Dryden,  Pope,  and  Byron 
have  excelled  in  England,  as  Lowell  did  in  America.  In- 
deed, all  great  poets  have  written  brilliant  satire;  for  it 
requires  a  mind  of  superior  all-round  equipment  to  indite 
clever  satirical  verse. 

The  range  of  subject-matter  for  satirical  poetry  is  as 
wide  as  human  weakness.  The  foibles  of  Government  have 
always  been  a  shining  target  for  the  satirist,  as  the  follow- 
ing extract  from  Lowell's  long  composition  will  illustrate. 
It  is  a  portrait  of  the  politician,  ''Hosea  Biglow, "  drawn 
by  himself. 

Dear  Sir, — You  wish  to  know  my  notions 

On  sartin  pints  thet  rile  the  land : 
There's  nothin'  thet  my  natur  so  shuns 

Ez  bein'  mum  or  underhand; 
I'm  a  straight-spoken  kind  o'  creetur 

Thet  blurts  right  out  wut's  in  his  head, 
An'  ef  I've  one  pecooler  feetur, 

It  is  a  nose  thet  wunt  be  led. 

So,  to  begin  at  the  beginnin', 

An'  come  direcly  to  the  pint, 
I  think  the  country's  underpinnin' 

Is  some  consid'ble  out  o'  jint; 
I  aint  agoin'  to  try  your  patience 

By  tellin'  who  done  this  or  thet, 
I  don't  make  no  insinooations, 

I  jest  let  on  I  smell  a  rat. 


230  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

Thet  is,  I  mean,  it  seems  to  me  so, 

But,  ef  the  public  think  I'm  wrong, 
I  wunt  deny  but  what  I  be  so, — 

An',  fact,  it  don't  smell  very  strong; 
My  mind's  tu  fair  to  lose  its  balance 

An'  say  which  party  hez  most  sense; 
There  may  be  folks  o'  greater  talence 

Thet  can't  set  stiddier  on  the  fence. 

I'm  an  eclectic;  ez  to  choosin' 

'Twixt  this  an'  thet,  I'm  plaguy  lawth; 
I  leave  a  side  that  looks  like  losin'. 

But  (wile  there's  doubt)  I  stick  to  both ; 
I  Stan'  upon  the  Constitution, 

Ez  preudunt  statesmun  say,  who've  planned 
A  way  to  git  the  most  profusion 

O'  chances  ez  to  ware  they'll  stand. 

— Biglow  Papers. 

Practice  has  not  kept  pace  with  precept  with  regard  to 
Addison's  declaration  that  his  satires  should  "consider 
the  crime  as  it  appears  in  the  species,  not  as  it  is  circum- 
stanced in  the  individual,"  for  many  satires  flay  the  indi- 
vidual brutally  enough.  Pope,  for  instance,  instead  of 
being  satisfied  to  "shoot  folly  as  it  flies"  sometimes  made 
direct  attacks  by  name.  Such  methods  rob  satire  of  its 
subtlety  and  turn  wit  into  assault.  All  genuine  wits  scorn 
to  demolish  with  a  bludgeon  what  they  can  puncture  with 
a  pen-point.  But  after  all.  Pope  was  subtle,  and  had  a 
just  hatred  of  those  who  fought  from  ambush.  In  his 
Prologue  to  "Satires"  he  scorns  those  who 


LIGHT   VERSE  23 1 

Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer, 
And  without  sneering,  teach  the  rest  to  sneer; 
Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 
Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dislike; 
Alike  reserv'd  to  blame,  or  to  commend, 
A  tim'rous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend. 

Dryden  drove  a  middle  course  at  least  in  his  "Absalom 
and  Achitophel,"  though  he  was  not  always  so  moderate. 
The  character  of  Zimri  satirized  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
"The  character  ...  is  not  bloody,"  says  Dryden 
himself  in  his  "Discourse  on  Satire,"  "but  it  is  ridiculous 
enough,  and  he  for  whom  it  was  intended  was  too  witty  to 
resent  it  as  an  injury." 

One  of  the  passages  which  holds  the  Duke  up  to  ridicule 
is  this  lampoon,  which  could  hardly  amuse  any  but  a 
highly  good-natured  subject: 

A  man  so  various  that  he  seemed  to  be 

Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome: 

Stiff  in  opinions,  always  in  the  wrong, 

Was  everything  by  starts,  and  nothing  long ; 

But,  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon. 

Was  chymist,  fiddler,  statesman,  and  buffoon. 

Satire  that  goes  too  far  defeats  itself,  for  it  loses  the 
sympathy  of  the  reader — not  to  say  the  person  satirized! 
"Satire,"  says  Miss  Wells  in  her  "A  Satire  Anthology," 
"depends  on  the  reader.  What  seems  to  us  satire  today 
may  not  seem  so  tomorrow.  Or,  what  seems  satire  to  a 
pessimistic  mind,  may  seem  merely  good-natured  chaff  to 
an  optimist." 


232  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

One  of  the  famous  satires  dealing  with  individuals  is 
that  of  Thackeray,  poking  fun  at  the  then  popular  craze 
for  Goethe's  romance.  Perhaps  these  lines  suggested  the 
modern  art  of  reviewing  books  in  clever  rhymes. 

The  Sorrows  of  Werther 

Werther  had  a  love  for  Charlotte 
Such  as  words  could  never  utter; 

Would  you  know  how  first  he  met  her? 
She  was  cutting  bread  and  butter. 

Charlotte  was  a  married  lady, 

And  a  moral  man  was  Werther, 
And  for  all  the  wealth  of  Indies 

Would  do  notliing  for  to  hurt  her. 

So  he  sighed  and  pined  and  ogled, 
And  his  passion  boiled  and  bubbled. 

Till  he  blew  his  silly  brains  out. 
And  no  more  was  by  it  troubled. 

Charlotte,  having  seen  his  body 

Borne  before  her  on  a  shutter. 
Like  a  well-conducted  person. 

Went  on  cutting  bread  and  butter. 

The  practices  of  society  furnish  the  themes  for  by  far  the 
greatest  number  of  modern  satires — which,  happily,  are 
more  bright  than  waspish,  even  if  less  literary  than  those 
of  former  days.    Such  satire  is  of  the  period,  just  as  Samuel 


LIGHT   VERSE  233 

Butler    lashed    the    warring    churchmen    of    his    era  in 
"Hudibras, "  a  bitter,  clever  diatribe. 

For  he  was  of  that  stubborn  crew 
Of  errant  saints,  whom  all  men  grant 
To  be  the  true  Church  militant; 
Such  as  do  build  their  faith  upon 
The  holy  text  of  pike  and  gun ; 
Decide  all  controversies  by 
Infallible  artillery, 
And  prove  their  doctrine  orthodox, 
By  apostolic  blows  and  knocks; 
Call  fire,  and  sword,  and  desolation, 
A  godly,  thorough  reformation. 

— The  Religion  of  Hudibras. 

Burns  was  less  bitter  and  more  effective  in  the  following 
stanzas  from  his  "Address  to  the  Unco  Guid:" 

Oh,  ye  wha  are  sae  guid  yoursel', 

Sae  pious  and  sae  holy, 
Ye've  nought  to  do  but  mark  and  tell 

Your  neibours'  fauts  an'  folly! 
Whose  life  is  like  a  weel-gawn  mill. 

Supplied  wi'  store  o'  water, 
The  heaped  hopper's  ebbing  still, 

An'  still  the  clap  plays  clatter. 

*         *         * 

Then  gently  scan  your  brother  man. 
Still  gentler  sister  woman ; 


234  THE    ART    OF    VERSIFICATION 

Though  they  may  gang  a  kennin'  wrangj 

To  step  aside  is  human. 
One  point  must  still  be  greatly  dark, 

The  moving  why  they  do  it; 
An'  just  as  lamely  can  ye  mark 

How  far,  perhaps,  they  rue  it. 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  Mrs.  Browning  had  no  per- 
sonal cause  to  inspire  the  concluding  stanza  of  her  verses. 
The  opening  lines  are  also  reproduced  in  order  to  show  the 
contrast. 

A  Man's  Requirements 

Love  me,  sweet,  with  all  thou  art, 

Feeling,  thinking,  seeing; 
Love  me  in  the  lightest  part, 

Love  me  in  full  being. 

Thus,  if  thou  wilt  prove  me,  dear, 

Woman's  love's  no  fable, 
/  will  love  thee — half  a  year. 

As  a  man  is  able. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  dealt  out  wholesome  satire  to 
the  all-bumptious  when  he  wrote  this  stanza  in  "A  Fa- 
miliar Letter  to  Several  Correspondents:" 

But  remember,  O  dealer  in  phrases  sonorous, 

So  daintily  chosen,  so  tunefully  matched, 
Though  you  soar  with  the  wings  of  the  cherubim  o'er  us, 
The  ovum  was  human  from  which  vou  were  hatched. 


LIGHT   VERSE  235 

Here  is  a  famous  quatrain  poem  by  John  Godfrey  Saxe: 
Woman's  Will 

Men,  dying,  make  their  wills,  but  wives 

Escape  a  work  so  sad; 
Why  should  they  make  what  all  their  lives 

The  gentle  dames  have  had? 

Lowell  thus  concludes  his  lines  on 

The  Pious  Editor's  Creed    " 

In  short  I  firmly  du  believe 

In  Humbug  generally, 
Fer  it's  a  thing  thet  I  perceive 

To  hev  a  solid  vally; 
This  heth  my  faithful  shepherd  ben, 

In  pasture  sweet  hath  led  me. 
An'  this'U  keep  the  people  green, 

To  feed  as  they  have  fed  me. 

The  present-day  magazines  are  constantly  adding  to  our 
store  of  satirical  verse.  We  conclude  this  section  with  the 
following  characteristic  examples: 

To  Be  or  Not  To  Be 

"  You  wish  to  wed  my  daughter?"  said 

The  father  of  fair  Flo. 
"  What  are  your  prospects?  "    George  replied : 

"That's  what  /  want  to  know!" 

— Harold  Susman. 


236  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

No  More 

I  played  with  Maude  in  days  of  yore, 
When  Bridge  became  her  craze; 

But  now  I  play  with  her  no  more, — 
She  has  such  winning  ways! 

— La  Touche  Hancock. 

The  Typical  Topical  Song 

In  the  midst  of  the  craze  for  these  musical  plays 

Which  hold  such  remarkable  sway, 
When  an  item  like  plot  doesn't  matter  a  jot, 

And  art  has  a  very  small  "a," 
At  times  it  will  hap  that  the  usual  snap 

Is  lacking,  and  something  goes  wrong; 
Still,  you  can  reply  it  will  "go"  bye  and  bye 

With  a  typical  topical  song! 

Here's  a  subject,  or  two,  that  often  will  do, 

If  sung  with  a  confident  nous — 
The  high  price  of  meat  the  people  will  greet 

With  shouts  that  will  bring  down  the  house ! 
If  the  tariff  you  chaflf,  'twill  elicit  a  laugh. 

And  the  subway's  especially  strong. 
And  a  touch  on  divorce  can't  be  missing,  of  course, 

From  the  typical  topical  song! 

Then  the  suffragette  cause  will  win  great  applause. 

The  comet  will  prove  a  big  draw, 
Joy  riding,  a  strike,  chauffeurs,  and  the  like, 

They'll  all  of  them  bring  a  guffaw! 


LIGHT   VERSE  237 

It  won't  matter  a  bit,  if  the  play's  not  a  hit; 

You'll  find  that  the  public  will  throng 
To  the  musical  piece,  which  will  take  a  new  lease 

With  this  typical  topical  song! 

— La  Touche  Hancock. 

5.  Humorous  Verse 

Humor  defies  definition.  Those  who  do  not  know  it  tor 
what  it  is  will  never  learn  from  a  lexicon ;  yet  a  good  defi- 
nition were  desirable  enough  since  no  two  authorities 
agree  as  to  where  it  begins  and  ends.  Either  one  of  two 
elements,  however,  we  shall  be  certain  to  find  in  all  humor: 
a  sudden,  mirth-provoking  surprise,  or  a  playful  sense  of 
the  incongruous.  And  these  characteristics  of  humor  in 
general,  inhere  in  humorous  verse. 

As  we  have  already  said,  the  types  of  light  verse  often 
overlap,  and  this  is  most  true  of  humorous  lines — a  state- 
ment too  obvious  to  need  proof.  We  shall  find  humor  in 
parody,  nonsense  rhymes,  and  whimsical  verse,  just  as  we 
found  it  delicately  present  in  much  vers  de  societe. 

Humorous  verse  is  as  old  as  literature;  for  proof  read  the 
following  from  Aristophanes,  which  contains  both  wit  and 
humor: 

Women's  Chorus 

They're  always  abusing  the  women. 

As  a  terrible  plague  to  men: 
They  say  we're  the  root  of  all  evil, 

And  repeat  it  again  and  again; 


238  THE   ART   OF    VERSIFICATION 

Of  war,  and  quarrels,  and  bloodshed. 

All  mischief,  be  what  it  may! 
And  pray,  then,  why  do  you  marry  us, 

If  we're  all  the  plagues  you  say? 
And  why  do  you  take  such  care  of  us, 

And  keep  us  so  safe  at  home, 
And  are  never  easy  a  moment 

If  ever  we  chance  to  roam? 
When  you  ought  to  be  thanking  heaven 

That  your  plague  is  out  of  the  way, 
You  all  keep  fussing  and  fretting — 

"Where  is  my  Plague  today?" 
If  a  Plague  peeps  out  of  the  window. 

Up  go  the  eyes  of  men; 
If  she  hides,  then  they  all  go  staring 

Until  she  looks  out  again. 

— Translation  by  William  Collins. 

Punning  verse  is  a  time-honored,  or,  as  some  cynics 
aver,  dishonored  type  of  humorous  "poetry,"  and  none 
so  clever  as  Tom  Hood  in  its  making.  "Faithless  Nelly 
Gray"  is  so  well-known  as  to  make  extended  quotation 
needless. 

Ben  Battle  was  a  soldier  bold. 

And  used  to  war's  alarms; 
But  a  cannon-ball  took  off  his  legs, 

So  he  laid  down  his  arras. 


LIGHT   VERSE  239 

Now  as  they  bore  him  off  the  field 

Said  he,  "  Let  others  shoot, 
For  here  I  leave  my  second  leg, 

And  the  Forty-second  Foot." 

Hood  used  the  same  meter  in  his  less-known  verses, 
"Faithless  Sally  Brown."  The  last  stanza  contains  his 
famous  pun : 

His  death,  which  happened  in  his  berth. 

At  forty-odd  befell; 
They  went  and  told  the  sexton,  and 

The  sexton  tolled  the  bell. 

In  Oliver  Goldsmith's  "Elegy  on  the  Death  of  a  Mad 
Dog,"  we  find  the  same  iambic  measure: 

A  kind  and  gentle  heart  he   had, 
To  comfort  friends  and  foes: 

The  naked  every  day  he  clad — 
When  he  put  on  his  clothes. 

Many  present-day  rhymesters,  too,  have  found  iambic 
four- threes  a  convenient  form  for  their  humorous  verse. 
We  append  several,  which  illustrate  a  variety  of  types. 

His  Plan 

To  dodge  his  creditors,  required 

Such  vigilance  and  vim, 
A  motor  car  he  went  and  hired. 

And  now  they're  dodging  him ! 

— La  Touche  Hancock. 


240  the  art  of  versification 

One  or  T'other 

An  acrobat  I  chanced  to  meet, 

And  these  wise  words  he  said : 
"We  must  be  light  upon  our  feet, 

Or  light  upon  our  head. " 

— Sam  S.  Stinson. 

A  Nature  Faker 

The  tadpole  is  a  curious  beast, 

A  paradox  complete; 
For  he  is  but  four  inches  long. 

When  he  has  grown  four  feet. 

— E.  F.  MOBERLY. 

Other  rhymesters  a-plenty  adopt  other  metrical  forms 
for  their  punning  verse. 

Pyro-Technique 

Miss  Isabel  Smith  is  the  maid  that  we  hire, 
And  one  morning  this  Isabel  Smith  was  on  fire. 
I  quenched  the  wild  flames  with  a  bottle  of  stout. 
And  you  never  saw  Isabel  Smith  so  put  out ! 

— C.  H. 

Nomenclature 

When  Bossy  invented  a  gentleman  calf 
They  called  him  Monseigneur  Boule. 

Next  spring  when  a  lady  calf  dawned  on  the  scene 
They  christened  her  Calfy  au  Lait. 

-J.  B.  E. 


light  verse  24 1 

The  Only  Way 

If  he  comes  to  borrow  ten, 

I  am  out. 
Tell  him,  ofl&ce  boy,  again, 

I  am  out. 
It's  the  only  way  to  win. 
Or  to  save  my  hard-earned  tin. 
For  if  he  should  find  me  in, 

I  am  out. 

— James  H.  Hubbard. 

Sometimes  a  bit  of  punning  verse  like  the  following  will 
go  the  rounds  with  additions  by  every  paper  that  prints  it. 

When  many  fiction  writers  try 

Their  thoughts  to  give  us  hot, 
We  get  e-rot-ic  novels,  with 

The  accent  on  the  rot. 

— LippincoW s  Magazine. 

When  some  hair-dressers  seek  to  give 

Us  hair  to  fit  the  hat, 
We  get  er-rat-ic  coiffures,  with 

The  accent  on  the  rat. 

— Boston  Traveler. 

And  when  the  fisher  leaves  the  pool 

And  gladly  home  does  hie. 
We  get  some  li-kely  stories,  with 

The  accent  on  the  lie. 

— Topeka  Capital. 


242  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

And  when  some  fellows  go  down  town 

At  night,  they  make  the  bull 
Of  coming  home  quite  beauti-ful, 

With  the  accent  on  the  ful. 

— Denver  Post. 

Now  here  we  have  the  daily  rhyme, 

Though  not  as  fierce  as  some, 
Penned  by  the  office  bum-pkin,  with 

The  accent  on  the  bum. 

— Atlanta  Georgian. 

If  I  were  a  copy-reader, 

Forced  to  suffer  such  attacks, 
Some  poor  poet  would  get  an  ax-sent, 

With  the  accent  on  the  ax. 

— Dudley  Glass  in  LippincotVs  Magazine. 

A  typical  bit  of  contemporary  humorous  verse  in  the 
style  of  Hood  is  this : 

The  Suicide 

The  painters  came  to  us  one  day, 

Our  woodwork  to  demolish. 
And  on  the  stairs  they  left  a  can 

Of  finest  hardwood  polish. 

Our  puppy's  name  is  Cyrus  Sims, 

A  king  of  past  offences. 
Our  puppy  ate  that  sticky  can 
And  dared  the  consequences. 


LIGHT   VERSE  243 

"Oh  Cyrus,  are  you  going  to  die? 

What  makes  your  breath  diminish?  " 
"  I  cannot  say, "  the  pup  replied, 

"I  fear  it  is  the  finish." 

— Chester  Firkins. 

Many  capital  "poems"  do  not  depend  upon  the  pun, 
but  present  humor  of  idea  or  humor  of  situation.  Here  are 
several  in  this  different  vein: 

The  Voice  of  the  East  to  the  Voice  of  the  West 

A  most  appreciative  cuss. 
The  Sun  gets  up  to  look  at  us. 
But  when  he  strikes  the  West  instead 
He  gets  so  bored  he  goes  to  bed. 

— McLandburgh  Wilson. 

The  Voice  of  the  West  to  the  Voice  of  the^East 

'Tis  true  that  in  the  East  the  Sun 

Doth  rise,  and  yet  'tis  evident 
He  likes  it  not,  but  hastens  West 

And  settles  down  in  sweet  content! 

— C.  B.U. 

It's  Very  Queer 

When  you  call  a  girl  a  kitten 

You  are  sure  to  get  a  pat, 
So  why  should  you  get  the  mitten 

When  you  say  she  is  a  cat? 

But  you  do. 


244  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

If  you  say  a  girl's  a  vision, 

It  will  fill  her  with  delight, 
So  there  should  be  no  collision 

When  you  say  she  is  a  sight. 

But  there  is. 

You  call  a  man  a  sly  old  dog; 

He  asks  you  in  to  sup; 
Why  should  it  set  his  wrath  agog 
When  you  say  he  is  a  pup? 

But  it  does. 

— Cecilia  A.  Loizeaux. 

Warning 

Unless  opprobrium  you  seek, 
Don't  call  your  native  town  "  unique. " 
The  word's  derived,  you  know,  of  course, 
From  unus,  one,  and  equus,  horse. 

— Katharine  Perry. 

Some  of  the  best  humor-verse  of  the  day  is  in  dialect — 
often  with  a  touch  of  sentiment  added.  The  following 
lines  by  Mr.  Bangs  are  quite  as  full  of  homely  philosophy 
as  if  they  had  been  taken  from  Lowell's  "Biglow  Papers, " 
while  "Christmas"  shows  us  the  gifted  negro  poet, 
Dunbar,  in  his  best  humorous  vein. 

Where  the  Fun  Comes  in 

To  hev  all  things,  ain't  suited  to  my  mind, 
Fer,  as  I  go  my  way,  I  seem  to  find 
That  half  the  fun  o'  life  is  wantin'  things, 
An' t'  other  half  is  gettin'  'em,  by  Jings! 

— John  Kendrick  Bangs. 


light  verse  245 

Christmas 

Step  wid  de  banjo  an'  glide  wid  de  fiddle, 
Dis'  aln'  no  time  fu'  to  pottah  an'  piddle; 
Fu'  Christmas  is  comin',  it's  right  on  de  way, 
An'  dey's  houahs  to  dance  'fo'  de  break  o'  de  day. 

What  if  de  win'  is  a  taihin'  an'  whistlin'? 
Look  at  dat  fiah  how  hit's  spittin'  and  bristlin' ! 
Heat  in  de  ashes  an'  heat  in  de  cindahs, 
or  Mistah  Fros'  kin  des  look  thoo  de  windahs. 

Heat  up  de  toddy  an'  pas'  de  wa'm  glasses, 
Don'  stop  to  shivah  at  blowin's  an'  blas'es, 
Keep  on  de  kittle  an'  keep  it  a  hummin', 
Eat  all  an'  drink  all,  dey's  lots  mo'  a-comin'. 
Look  hyeah,  Maria,  don't  open  dat  oven. 
Want  all  dese  people  a-pushin'  an'  shovin'? 

Res'  from  de  dance?    yes,  you  done  cotch  dat  odah, 
Mammy  done  cotch  it,  an'  law!  hit  nigh  flo'd  huh ; 
'Possum  is  monst'ous  fu'  mekin'  folks  fin'  it! 
Come,  draw  yo'  cheers  up,  I's  sho'  I  do'  min'  it. 
Eat  up  dem  critters,  you  men  folks  an'  wimmens, 
'Possums  ain'  skace  w'en  dey's  lots  o'  pu'simmons. 

— Paul  Lawrence  Dunbar. 

4.  Parody  and  Travesty 

Parody  is  mimicry  rather  than  imitation  and  has  for  its 
object  either  the  casting  of  more  or  less  good-natured 
ridicule  on  the  original,  or  merely  the  convenient  use  of  a 


246  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

well-known  poem  usually  in  zest,  though  light  verse  may 
be  parodied  in  serious  verses.  Parody  becomes  travesty 
or  burlesque  when  carried  to  the  extreme  of  the  ridiculous 
— though  burlesque  and  extravaganza  need  not  parody  a 
specific  original,  but  may  poke  fun  at  a  general  type.  Ex- 
travaganza is  also  taken  to  mean  uproarious  fun  of  any  sort. 

In  common  with  other  forms  of  light  verse,  parody  is 
ancient,  and  many  able  poets  have  indulged  in  it — at 
times;  its  constant  practice,  however,  is  anything  but  a 
mark  of  originality.  It  is  only  too  common  to  see  poems 
of  beauty  and  thoughts  of  sublimity  mangled,  without  the 
slightest  trace  of  cleverness  in  the  perpetrator.  But  bright 
parody  always  retains  something  of  the  original  flavor 
while  it  wittily  turns  aside  to  produce  either  merited  ridi- 
cule or  wholesome  fun. 

Miss  Wells  has  adequately  divided  parodies  into  three 
classes:  first,  those  which  consist  in  word-rendering,  de- 
p)ending  for  their  interest  "entirely  upon  the  substitution 
of  a  trivial  or  commonplace  motive  for  a  lofty  one;" 
second,  form-rendering,  or  "the  imitation  of  the  style  of  an 
author,  preferably  an  author  given  to  mannerisms  of  some 
sort;"  third,  sense-rendering,  which  is  "by  far  the  most 
meritorious,  and  utilizes  not  only  the  original  writer's 
diction  and  style,  but  follows  a  train  of  thought  precisely 
along  the  lines  that  he  would  have  pursued  from  the  given 
premises." 

A  fourth  class,  which  begins  with  the  exact  words  of  the 
parodied  verse  and  ends  with  something  quite  different, 
is  frequent  today  and  mainly  limited  to  one  or  two  short 
stanzas.    This  may  be  called  the  semi-parody. 


LIGHT   VERSE  247 

A  series  of  examples  of  these  several  forms  is  appended. 
Comparison  with  the  originals  will  make  interesting  work 
for  the  rhymester  and  the  student. 

(a)  Word-renderings. 

The  Bat 
(After  Jane  Taylor) 

Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  bat! 

How  I  wonder  what  you're  at! 

*        *        * 

Up  above  the  world  you  fly, 
Like  a  tea-tray  in  the  sky. 

— Lewis  Carroll. 

The  Bridge 

(After  Longfellow) 

They  stood  on  the  bridge  at  midnight. 

In  a  park  not  far  from  the  town ; 
They  stood  on  the  bridge  at  midnight, 
Because  they  didn't  sit  down. 

The  moon  rose  o'er  the  city. 

Behind  the  dark  church  spire; 
The  moon  rose  o'er  the  city. 

And  kept  on  rising  higher. 

How  often,  oh,  how  often! 

They  whispered  words  so  soft; 
How  often,  oh,  how  often; 

How  often,  oh,  how  oft! 

—Ben  King. 


248  the  art  of  versification 

The  Marriage  of  Sir  John  Smith 
(After  Charles  Wolfe) 

Not  a  sigh  was  heard,  nor  a  funeral  tone, 
As  the  man  to  his  bridal  we  hurried; 

Not  a  woman  discharged  her  farewell  groan. 
On  the  spot  where  the  fellow  was  married. 

We  married  him  just  about  eight  at  night, 

Our  faces  paler  turning. 
By  the  struggling  moonbeams'  misty  light, 

And  the  gas-lamp's  steady  burning. 

*  *        * 

Few  and  short  were  the  things  we  said, 

And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrow. 
But  we  silently  gazed  on  the  man  that  was  wed. 

And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow. 

We  thought,  as  we  silently  stood  about, 

With  spite  and  anger  dying, 
How  the  merest  stranger  had  cut  us  out. 

With  only  half  our  trying. 

*  *        * 

But  our  heavy  task  at  length  was  done, 
When  the  clock  struck  the  hour  for  retiring; 

And  we  heard  the  spiteful  squib  and  pun 
The  girls  were  sullenly  firing. 

Slowly  and  sadly  we  turned  to  go, — 
We  had  struggled  and  we  were  human; 

We  shed  not  a  tear,  and  we  spoke  not  our  woe, 
But  we  left  him  alone  with  his  woman. 

— Phoebe  Carey. 


LIGHT   VERSE  249 

{b)  Form-renderings 

The  Amateur  Flute 

(After  Poe) 

Hear  the  fluter  with  his  flute, 
Silver  flute! 
Oh,  what  a  world  of  wailing  is  awakened  by  its  toot! 
How  it  demi-semi-quavers 

On  the  maddened  air  of  night ! 
And  defieth  all  endeavors 

To  escape  the  sound  or  sigh 
Of  the  flute,  flute,  flute. 
With  its  tootle,  tootle,  toot; 
With  reiterated  tootleing  of  exasperating  toots, 
The  long  protracted  tootleing  of  agonizing  toots 
Of  the  flute,  flute,  flute. 
Flute,   flute,   flute, 
And  the  wheezings  and  the  spittings  of  its  toots. 
Should  he  get  that  other  flute. 
Golden  flute. 
Oh,  what  a  deeper  anguish  will  his  presence  institoot! 
How  his  eyes  to  heaven  he'll  raise. 
As  he  plays. 
All  the  days! 
How  he'll  stop  us  on  our  ways 
With  its  praise! 

And  the  people — oh,  the  people. 
That  don't  live  up  in  the  steeple, 
But  inhabit  Christian  parlors 


250  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

Where  he  visiteth  and  plays, 
Where  he  plays,  plays,  plays, 
In  the  cruellest  of  ways. 
And  thinks  we  ought  to  listen, 
And  expects  us  to  be  mute. 
Who  would  rather  have  the  earache 
Than  the  music  of  his  flute. 
Of  his  flute,  flute,  flute, 
And  the  tootings  of  his  toot, 
Of  the  toots  wherewith  he  tooteth  its  agonizing  toot, 
Of  the  flute,  flewt,  fluit,  floot, 
Phlute,  phlewt,  phlewght. 
And  the  tootle,  tootle,  tooting  of  its  toot. 

— Anonymous. 

Ye  Clkkke  of  \'k  Wethekk 

(After  Chaucer) 

A  clerke  there  was,  a  puissant  wight  was  hee, 

Who  of  ye  wethere  hadde  ye  maisterie; 

Alway  it  was  his  mirth  and  his  solace — 

To  put  each  seson's  wethere  oute  of  place. 

Whanne  that  Aprille  showres  wer  our  desyre. 

He  gad  us  Julye  sonnes  as  hotte  as  fyre; 

But  sith  ye  summere  togges  we  donned  agayne, 

Eftsoons  ye  wethere  chaunged  to  cold  and  rayne. 

Wo  was  the  pilgrimme  who  fared  forth  a-foote. 

Without  any  gyngham  that  him  list  uppe-putte ; 

And  gif  no  mackyntosches  eke  had  hee, 

A  parlous  state  that  wight  befelle — pardie! 


LIGHT   VERSE  25 1 

We  wist  not  gif  it  nexte  ben  colde  or  hotte, 
Cogswounds!  ye  barde  a  grewsome  colde  hath  gotte! 
Certes,  that  Gierke's  one  mightie  man  withalle, 
Let  none  don  him  offence,  lest  ille  befalle. 

— Anonymous. 
(c)  Sense-rendering 

One  stanza  only  is  given  from  the  following: 
Ode  on  a  Jar  of  Pickles 
(After  Keats) 

A  sweet,  acidulous,  down-reaching  thrill 

Pervades  my  sense.    I  seem  to  see  or  hear 
The  lushy  garden-grounds  of  Greenwich  Hill 

In  autumn,  where  the  crispy  leaves  are  sere ; 
And  odors  haunt  me  of  remotest  spice 

From  the  Levant  or  musky-aired  Cathay, 
Or  the  saffron-fields  of  Jerico, 

Where  everything  is  nice. 
The  more  I  sniff,  the  more  I  swoon  away, 

And  what  else  mortal  palate  craves,  forego. 

— Bayard  Taylor. 
{d)  Semi- Parodies 

A  Real  Summer  Girl 
(After  Whittier) 
Maud  MuUer  on  a  summer's  day 
Raked  the  meadow  sweet  with  hay. 
You'd  hardly  expect  a  girl,  you  know, 
In  summertime  to  be  shovelling  snow. 

— J.  G.  Neumarker. 


252  the  art  of  versification 

Another  Wise  Man 
(After  a  Nursery  Rhyme) 

There  was  a  man  in  our  town, 

And  wondrous  wise  was  he; 
He  took  his  axe  one  autumn  day 

And  chopped  down  an  old  tree. 

And  when  he  saw  the  tree  was  down, 

With  all  his  might  and  main 
He  swung  his  axe  with  lusty  strokes 

And  chopped  it  up  again. 

— E.  F.  Moberly. 

Reverse  Engush 

(After  a  Nursery  Rhyme) 

A  diller,  a  dollar,  a  ten-o'clock  scholar; 

What  makes  you  come  so  fast? 
You  used  to  be  behind  before, 

But  now  you're  first  at  last. 


-L.  C.  Davis. 


A  Chain  of  Parodies 
The  Original 

There  was  a  man  in  our  town. 
And  he  was  wondrous  wise. 

He  jumped  into  a  bramble  bush 
And  scratched  out  both  his  eyes. 


LIGHT   VERSE  253 

And  when  he  saw  his  eyes  were  out 

With  all  his  might  and  main 
He  jumped  into  another  bush 

And  scratched  them  in  again. 

If  Mr.  R-dy-rd  K-pl-ng  had  conceived  this  idea,  we 
should  probably  know  it  in  this  guise: 

A  man  there  was  who  was  wondrous  wise 

(Even  as  you  and  I!) 
He  jumped  in  a  bush  where  he  lost  both  eyes. 
His  action  occasioned  a  great  surprise, 
But  he  said  he  needed  the  exercise 

(Even  as  you  and  I!) 
Oh,  the  sightless  strain  and  the  burning  pain ! 

It  stung  like  a  white-hot  brand. 
He  jumped  in  another  bush  near-by 
And  scratched  them  in  with  a  heart- felt  sigh ; 

How — I  ne'er  could  understand. 

I  am  quite  sure  Miss  C-r-lyn  W-lls  would  have  made  a 
limerick  of  it,  thus: 

A  wise  man  in  one  of  his  rambles 
Lost  his  eyes  in  a  big  bush  of  brambles. 

He  jumped  with  a  cheer 

In  another  bush  near 
And  scratched  them  back  in  with  mad  scrambles. 

Omar  might  have  incorporated  it  into  the  Rubaiyat: 


254  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

A  Native  of  Our  Town  who  was  most  wise, 
While  seeking  Something  novel  to  devise, 

Into  a  Bush  of  Brambles  took  a  Leap, 
And  'mid  Its  Branches  scratched  out  both  His  Eyes. 

And  when  He  saw  that  both  His  Eyes  were  out, 
He  paused  for  One  Brief  Moment  as  in  Doubt, 

And  then  into  Another  Bush  he  jumped 
And  scratched  back  in  His  Peepers  with  a  Shout, 

From  Virgil's  pen  it  would  have  come  to  us  as  a  flowing 
hexameter: 

Wondrous  the  wisdom  and  nerve  of  a  man  in  our  town 

whom  I  sing  of. 
Who,  while  out  tramping  and  quietly  seeking  for  novel 

diversion, 
Recklessly  leaped  in  a  bush  full  of  prickles  and  scratched 

both  his  eyes  out. 
He,  when  he  found  that  his  peepers  had  suffered  complete 

extirpation, 
Sought  for  a  similar  bush,  which  he  jumped  in  and  quickly 

restored  them. 

H-ry  W.  L-gf-11-w  might  have  given  it  to  the  world  in 
this  form : 

Once  a  wise  man  in  our  village. 
Longing  for  a  new  sensation. 
Jumped  into  a  bush  of  brambles 
Where  he  damaged  his  apparel. 


LIGHT   VERSE  255 

Likewise  rasped  his  epidermis, 
Also  scratched  out  both  his  peepers. 
When  he  saw  his  eyes  were  missing, 
Heeding  not  his  frayed  condition. 
He  another  bush  selected 
Into  which  he  took  a  header, 
And  amid  its  thorny  branches 
Both  his  orbs  he  soon  recovered. 

Mr.  W-ll-ce  Ir-in  might  have  woven  it  into  a  tuneful 
jingle  in  this  fashion: 

In  our  quiet  old  town  lived  a  man  of  renown, 

And  he  was  exceedingly  wise. 
He  made  a  mad  rush  at  a  blackberry  bush 

And  jumped  in  and  scratched  out  his  eyes. 
When  he  saw  they  were  out,  he  hunted  about 

Till  that  bush's  twin  brother  he  found, 
Which  he  quickly  jumped  in,  sadly  scarring  his  skin, 

And  emerged  with  his  eyes  safe  and  sound. 

— Edmund  Moberly. 

5.  Nonsense  Verse 


This  type  of  light  verse  is  that  which  conveys  merely 
nonsensical  or  ludicrous  ideas.  The  result  may  be  chiefly 
brought  about  by  such  ingenious  verbal  inventions  as  have 
endeared  Lewis  Carroll  and  Edward  Lear  to  millions. 
Who  has  not  felt  with  conviction  that  "a  runcible  hat" 
was  really  worn  by  the  charming  writer  who  conceived  the 
term!     And  who  has  not  longed  to  know  the  joys  of  a 


256  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

"frabjous  day!"  These  meaningless  words  are  somehow 
so  convincing  that  we  find  ourselves  believing  in  them — 
somewhere  they  must  be  real  language,  as  indeed  they 
have  been  to  the  old  and  young  children  of  three  genera- 
tions. 

Then,  too,  there  is  a  rhythmical  appropriateness  about 
each  nonsense-line  by  these  genuine  artists,  and  those 
written  by  many  of  their  imitators,  that  is  the  sign  and 
seal  of  artistry.  Read  "  Jabberwocky  "  aloud  and  you  feel 
the  joy  of  its  sound  and  movement.  Then  try  to  substi- 
tute either  dictionary  words  or  concoctions  of  your  own, 
and  note  the  loss. 

But  meaningless  words  were  woven  into  patterns  of 
verse  long  before  Lear  and  Carroll  sang,  so  that  these 
merry  friends  of  children  must  not  have  all  the  credit 
belonging  to  inventors.  Yet  they,  above  all  others,  per- 
fected the  gentle  art  of  mingling  nonsense,  no  sense,  and 
very  good  sense. 

On  many  accounts  it  will  pay  all  poets  and  rhymesters — 
if  any  there  be  so  unfortunate  as  not  to  know  these  delights 
— to  read  and  study  the  verses  in  "Alice  in  Wonderland" 
and  "Through  a  Looking  Glass"  by  Lewis  Carroll  (Charles 
L.  Dodgson),  the  collected  "Nonsense  Books"  by  Edward 
Lear,  the  "Bab  Ballads"  by  W.  S.  Gilbert,  whose  work 
with  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  in  their  light  operas  has  made  the 
world  their  debtor,  and  "A  Nonsense  Anthology"  by 
Carolyn  Wells,  with  its  charming  introductory  essay.  Our 
magazines  are  also  constantly  purveying  new  verses  by 
Mr.  Gelett  Burgess,  who  invented  the  "purple  cow;"  Mr. 
Oliver  Herford,  who  has  introduced  us  to  other  animals 


LIGHT   VERSE  257 

outside  the  zoo;  Miss  Wells,  who  makes  good  verse  as  well 
as  judges  it;  and  several  other  scarcely  less  ingenious  and 
graceful  rhymesters. 

Jabberwocky 

'Twas  brillig,  and  the  slithy  toves 

Did  gyre  and  gimble  in  the  wabe ; 
All  mimsy  were  the  borogoves, 
And  the  mome  raths  outgrabe. 

"Beware  the  Jabberwock,  my  son! 

The  jaws  that  bite,  the  claws  that  scratch ! 
Beware  the  Jubjub  bird,  and  shun 
The  frumious  Bandersnatch!" 

He  took  his  vorpal  sword  in  hand : 
Long  time  the  manxome  foe  he  sought. 

So  rested  he  by  the  Tumtum  tree, 
And  stood  awhile  in  thought. 

And  as  in  uffish  thought  he  stood, 
The  Jabberwock  with  eyes  of  flame, 

Came  whiflBng  through  the  tulgey  wood, 
And  burbled  as  it  came ! 

One,  two!   One,  two!    And  through,  and  through 
The  vorpal  blade  went  snicker-snack! 

He  left  it  dead  and  with  its  head 
He  went  galumphing  back. 


258  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

"And  hast  thou  slain  the  Jabberwock? 

Come  to  my  arms,  my  beamish  boy ! 
Oh,  frabjous  day!    Callooh!    callay!" 

He  chortled  in  his  joy. 

'Twas  brillig,  and  the  slithy  toves 

Did  gyre  and  gimble  in  the  wabe ; 
All  mimsy  were  the  borogoves 

And  the  mome  raths  outgrabe. 

— Lewis  Carroll. 

Is  not  all  this  very  real  after  all?  Perhaps,  we  feel,  if 
only  we  knew  a  little  more,  we  might  comprehend  every 
part  of  the  thrilling  adventure  with  the  Jabberwock.  As 
it  is,  the  wonderful  invention  never  fails,  in  that  remark- 
able way  which  art  claims  for  its  own,  to  possess  the  imagi- 
nation utterly. 

Observe  now  the  lilting  quality  of  these  lines  by  Lear: 

The    Owl    and    the    Pussy-Cat 

The  Owl  and  the  Pussy-Cat  went  to  sea 

In  a  beautiful  pea-green  boat ; 
They  took  some  honey,  and  plenty  of  money 

Wrapped  up  in  a  five-pound  note. 
The  Owl  looked  up  to  the  moon  above, 

And  sang  to  a  small  guitar, 
"  O  lovely  Pussy !  O  Pussy ,  my  love ! 
What  a  beautiful  Pussy  you  are, — 

You  are, 
What  a  beautiful  Pussy  you  are!" 


LIGHT   VERSE  259 

Pussy  said  to  the  Owl,  "You  elegant  fowl! 

How  wonderful  sweet  you  sing! 
O  let  us  be  married, — too  long  we  have  tarried, — 

But  what  shall  we  do  for  a  ring?" 
They  sailed  away  for  a  year  and  a  day 

To  the  land  where  the  Bong  tree  grows 
And  there  in  a  wood,  a  piggy-wig  stood, 

With  a  ring  at  the  end  of  his  nose, — 
His  nose, 

With  a  ring  at  the  end  of  his  nose. 

"Dear  Pig,  are  you  willing  to  sell  for  one  shilling 

Your  ring?  "    Said  the  piggy,  "  I  will. " 
So  they  took  it  away,  and  were  married  next  day 

By  the  turkey,  who  lives  on  the  hill. 
They  dined  upon  mince  and  slices  of  quince. 

Which  they  ate  with  a  runcible  spoon, 
And  hand  in  hand  on  the  edge  of  the  sand 

They  danced  by  the  light  of  the  moon, — 
The  moon. 

They  danced  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

— Edwakd  Leak. 

The  succeeding  stanzas  are  from  recent  magazine  non- 
sense verse:  ^_ 

The  Misanthrope 

I  wisht  I  wuz  a  crow's  egg, 
I  wisht  I  wuz  a  bad  one. 


26o  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

I  wisht  there  was  a  small  boy  a-climbin'  up  the  tree; 

I  wisht  he'd  climb  an'  climb,  an'  madly  shout  he  had  one — 

I'd  burst  my  shell, 

With  horrid  smell, 

An'  cover  him  with  me. 

— G.  Mayo. 

Ballad  of  Bedlam 

Oh,  lady,  wake!  the  azure  moon 

Is  rippling  in  the  verdant  skies; 
The  owl  is  warbling  his  soft  tune, 

Awaiting  but  thy  snowy  eyes. 
The  joys  of  future  years  are  past, 

To-morrow's  hopes  have  fled  away ; 
Still  let  us  love,  and  e'en  at  last 

We  shall  be  happy  yesterday. 

The  early  beam  of  rosy  night 

Drives  off  the  ebon  morn  afar, 
While  through  the  murmur  of  the  light 

The  huntsman  winds  his  mad  guitar. 
Then,  lady,  wake!   my  brigantine 

Pants,  neighs  and  prances  to  be  free; 
Till  the  creation  I  am  thine. 

To  some  rich  desert  fly  with  me. 

— Punch. 

ESKITOLOGY 

A  little  igloo  now  and  then 
Is  relished  by  the  Eskimen. 

— Nashville  Tennessean. 


LIGHT    VERSE  26 1 

A  little  whale  oil,  well  frappeed, 
Is  relished  by  the  Eskimaid. 

— Washington  Herald. 

A  little  gumdrop,  this  is  truth, 
Is  relished  by  the  Eskitooth. 

— Detroit  Free  Press. 

A  little  blubber,  raw  or  b'iled, 
Is  relished  by  the  Eskichild, 

— Cleveland  Plain  Dealer. 

The  all  of  which  shows  just  how  hard 
The  grind  is  for  the  Eskibard. 

— Buffalo  Evening  News. 

But  poets  might  detect  a  gap, 
'Tween  truth  and  Peary's  Eskimap. 

— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

And  think  that  Peary,  in  straits  dire, 
Rejoiced  to  find  an  Eskiliar! 

— Florida  Times-Union. 

A  little  pemmican  to  chaw 
Is  welcomed  by  the  Eskimaw. 

— Chicago  Record-Herald. 

We  could  keep  this  up  all  fall, 

But  fear  'twould  make  the  Eskibawl. 

— St.  Louis  Times. 


a62  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

Tis  said  two  gximdrops  and  a  knife 
Will  buy  a  man  an  Eskiwdfe. 

— Houston^Pw/. 

This  sort  of  rhyming  ought  to  stop — 
It's  hard  uf)on  the  Eskipop. 

— Karl  von  Kraft,  in  LippincoWs. 

That  unique  form  of  stanza  known  as  the  limerick,  was 
developed  by  Edward  Lear,  who  himself  wrote  more  than 
two  hundred — of  varying  merit — illustrated  by  his  own 
grotesque  drawings,  which  often  supplied  the  humor  lack- 
ing in  the  limericks.  Since  then  every  rhymester  has  had 
his  passion  for  limericks,  and  clever  ones  are  still  popular. 
In  form,  they  are  printed  either  in  four  lines  or  five— 
usually  five;  but  four-line  limericks  contain  an  internal 
rhyme  in  the  third  line,  which  in  the  five-line  limerick  is 
divided  so  as  to  make  lines  three  and  four.  Here  are  two 
examples  by  Lear — one  of  four  and  the  other  of  five  lines — 
both  of  which  begin,  as  do  nearly  all  his  limericks,  with 
"  There  was  an  old —  "  or  "  There  was  a  young — . "  Natu- 
rally, variety  began  to  grow  difficult  after  a  time,  and  later 
rhymesters  have  been  more  free,  and  thus  have  done  more 
to  improve  the  humor  of  the  limerick  than  did  Mr.  Lear 
himself. 

There  was  an  Old  Man  with  a  beard, 
Who  said,  "It  is  just  as  I  feared! 
Two  Owls  and  a  Hen,  four  Larks  and  a  Wren, 
Have  all  built  their  nests  in  my  beard  I" 


LIGHT    VERSE  263 

There  was  an  Old  Man  in  a  tree, 
Who  was  terribly  bored  by  a  bee; 
When  they  said,  "  Does  it  buzz?  " 
He  replied,  "Yes,  it  does! 
It's  a  regular  brute  of  a  Bee. " 

This  limerick  was  cleverly  parodied  by  W.  S.  Gilbert. 
Notice  that  he  laughingly  omits  the  rhymes. 

There  was  an  Old  Man  of  St.  Bees, 

Who  was  stimg  in  the  arm  by  a  wasp. 

When  they  asked,  "  Does  it  hurt?  " 

He  replied,  "No,  it  doesn't, 

But  I  thought  all  the  while  'twas  a  Hornet! " 

Some  limericks  from  current  magazines  are  here  ap 
pended : 

A  dentist,  whose  surname  was  Moss, 
Fell  in  love  with  the  charming  Miss  Ross; 

But  he  held  in  abhorrence 

Her  Christian  name,  Florence, 
So  he  called  her  his  Dental  Floss. 

— Carolyn  Wells. 

Said  the  stuttering  baritone  Gants, 
When  asked  by  the  chorister  Rants 

If  'twas  his  desire 

To  sing  in  the  choir, 
"I'd  j-j-j-jump  at  the  chants. " 

— T.   C.   McCONNKLL. 


264  THE   ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

See  how  the  stuttering  adds  three  syllables  to  the  last 
line  of  the  foregoing  and  so  fills  out  the  meter. 

A  Turk  with  a  sizable  harem 

Said,  "I  love  'em  and  really  can't  spare  'em; 

But  they  call  me  '  His  Nibs, ' 

And  say  they're  my  'ribs,' — 
Though  I  wish  they  were  less  hanmi-scarum ! " 

— Robert  T.  Hardy. 

A  lachrymose  lady  from  Sioux 
Whose  lover  was  sadly  untrioux, 

Refused  to  believe 

She  could  not  retrieve 
Her  lover  by  crying,  "bioux,  hioux!'' 

—J.  B.  E. 

A  canner,  exceedingly  canny, 

One  morning  remarked  to  his  granny : 

"  A  canner  can  can  anything  that  he  can, 
But  a  canner  can't  can  a  can,  can  he?  " 

— James  H.  Hubbard. 

There  was  a  tall  Russian  named  Muski — 

Wumiskiliviskivitchuski : 

You  may  say  his  name  twice. 

If  you  think  it  sounds  nice, 

But  I  bet  it  will  make  your  voice  husky. 

— Harry  A.  Rothrock. 


LIGHT    VERSE  265 

A  nautical  person  named  Hugh, 

When  informed  that  his  cap  was  askew, 

Cried,  "  Avast  there !  Belay! 

I  wear  it  that  way 
Because  it  is  pictures^we/ " 

— Robert  T.  Hardy. 

There  was  once  a  yoimg  person  named  Clare, 
Who  adopted  a  Frenchij5ed  air. 

She  drank  cafe  noir, 

And  when  told  "Au  revoir," 
Would  always  reply,  "Pomme  de  terre!" 

— Robert  T.  Hardy. 

6.  Whimsical  Verse 


Rhymesters  are  constantly  seeking  out  new  forms  for 
their  ingenuity.  The  results  are  often  extremely  diverting. 
Not  all  the  whimsical  verse-forms  are  new,  however,  for 
some  date  back  centuries.  A  few  of  the  most  interesting 
forms  are  here  reproduced  under  two  general  classifications. 

(a)  Oddities  of  Conception 

(1)    Twists  of  Language 
An  Autumnal  Love  Song 

Dnow  id  th'  berry  Autub-timb, 

Whed  stars  are  bridt  abobe, 
I  cob  bedeath  your  widdow,  dear, 

To  seredade  my  lub. 


266  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

Oh!  I  cad  bake  you  sweeder  sogs 
Thad  ere  were  sug  of  old; 
I've  god  a  soul  all  full  ob  lub, 
Add  a  head  all  full  ob  cold ! 

— M.  M.  P.  K. 
Love  as  it  is  Grammared 

I  vow  I'm  caught  by  Cupid's  ruses, 
(If  not  by  his'n,  why  then  by  whoses?) 
When  on  thy  bosom  rest  red  roses, 
Oh,  how  I  wish  that  I  were  thoses; 
And  when  thy  cheek  is  kissed  by  breezes 
'Tis  then  that  I  would  fain  be  theses. 
E'en  when  I  reach  my  last  long  bourne 
I'll  wish  my  chance  might  be  like  vourn. 

-J.  B.  E. 
(2)     Mnemonics 

Verse  of  this  sort  carries  its  definition  in  its  title — 
memory  helps. 

Thirty  days  have  September, 

April,  June,  and  November; 

All  the  rest  have  thirty-one 

Save  the  second  month  alone, 

And  Leap- Year  makes  it  twenty-nine. 

—Old  Rhyme. 
(3)    Mosaic  or  Cento  Verse 

The  first  stanza  of  "My  Genevieve,"  an  anonymous 
"poem,"  will  serve  as  an  example  of  a  mosaic,  which  is 
composed  of  lines  taken  from  dillerent  writers. 

I  only  knew  she  came  and  went  Powell 
Like  troutlets  in  a  pool;  Hood 

She  was  a  phantom  of  delight,     Wordsworth 
And  I  was  like  a  fool.  Eastman. 


LIGHT    VERSE  267 

(4)    Macaronic  Verse 
This  form  consists  of  the  mingling  of  two  or  more  lan- 
guages.   One  stanza  of  an  anonymous  "poem,"  "Ich  Bin 
Dein, "  will  suffice  as  an  example: 

In  tempus  old  a  hero  lived, 

Qui  loved  puellae  deux; 
He  ne  pouvait  pas  quite  to  say 

Which  one  amabat  mieux. 

(6)    Archaic  or  Dialect  Verse 

Ye  Deceitful  Balladist 

{He  halladelh.)  Ye  solitarie  Damselle 

Laye  mayking  of  her  moane, 
Her  moane  laye  she  a- mayking 
All  by  herself,  alone. 

None  other  soul  came  thither, 
Wept  she  in  secrecie 

All  in  her  turret  chamber. 

Where  none  myght  hap  to  be. 

Yea,  in  ye  stillsome  stillness 
That  moansome  Damselle  cried, 

Nor  any  eye  of  mortal 
Her  wearie  woe  espied. 

In  sighful,  sadful  soblets 
She  moaned  her  distresse, 

Ay,  nursed  she  her  sorrowe 
In  lomliest  loneHnesse. 


268  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

{One  butteth  in.)  But  naye,  thou  ballad  baldhead, 

An  thou  the  truth  do  speak, 
How  knewest  of  the  Damselle 
Lest  wentest  thou  to  peek? 

— Frederick  Moxon. 

(b)  Oddities  of  Form 

Under  this  heading  may  be  grouped  a  wide  variety  of 
verse,  all  whimsical,  which  depends  for  its  interest  on  its 
form  quite  as  much  as  on  its  ingenuity  of  idea.  There  is 
no  limit  to  the  possible  varieties,  a  considerable  number  of 
which  follow  in  examples. 

(1)    Whimsical  Shapes 

A   Friend  in  Need 
This  is 

that 
old 
and 
fra- 
grant 
friend 

which  makes  my 

life  worth  while! 

Sweet     peace  it's  very 
sure     to    lend,   till    I 
find  worry's  at  an 
end,  and  stretch 
back  with  a 
smile. 

— Charles  C.  Jones. 


light  verse  269 

At  Yule  Time 

It's 

now  the 

time    for 

Christmas  trees, 

mistletoe,  and    holly; 

sleigh-bells     ringing    o'er 

the     breeze,    and    everybody 

jolly  ;    the    children    all  will  eat 

their    fill    of    turkey,    sauce,     and 

candy,    and    Mother    will    be    sure    to 

have     the     paregoric     handy;      relatives     and 

friends    will    come    to     pay      their    annual 

visit; 

and 

swear 

by  all 

the 

saints 

above 

that 

everything's    exquisite ; 

gifts  to  make  to 

every     one,     and 

that's  the  very  reason 

I   save   the  ones   they 

give  to  me;    then  give 

them  back  next  season. 

— Charles  La  Tourette. 


270 


THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 


(2)    Typographical  Oddities 

The  Descent  of  Briggs 

Briggs  went  to  call  on  Miss  de  Loop; 

Alas,  he  was  not  fit — 
For  as  he  staggered  up  the  stoop — 
hit. 
he 

gait 
the 

is 
This 

The  irate  father  of  the  girl 

Swore  softly  as  he  lit 
With  both  feet  on  poor  Briggs,  and — whirl! 

This 

SI 

the 

he 


The  pointed  insult  of  it  all 

To  Briggs  (just  think  of  it!) 
Was  where  he  landed  from  his  fall : 


' 

CO 

•  .22  • 

•  ^  • 


W3  •   -3 


•   -^   • 


—J.  B.  E. 


LIGHT    VERSE  27 1 

(S)    Acrostics 

Of  the  several  varieties  of  acrostics  three  examples  are 
given. 

Single  Acrostic 

Friendship,  thou'rt  false!  I  hate  thy  flattering  smile! 
Return  to  me  those  years  I  spent  in  vain. 
In  early  youth  the  victim  of  thy  guile, 
Each  joy  took  wing  ne'er  to  return  again, — 
Ne'er  to  return;  for,  chilled  by  hopes  deceived, 
Dully  the  slow-paced  hours  now  move  along ; 
So  changed  the  times  when  thoughtless  I  believed 
Her  honeyed  words,  and  heard  her  siren  song. 
If  e'er,  as  me,  she  lure  some  youth  to  stray, 
Perhaps,  before  too  late,  he'll  listen  to  my  lay. 

— Anonymous. 
Particular  Acrostic 

Though  crost  in  our  affections,  still  the  flames 
Of  Honour   shall    secure   our     noble   Names 
Nor  shall  Our  fate  divorce  our  faith,    Or  cause 
The   least   Mislike   of   love's     Diviner   laws. 
Crosses  sometimes  Are  cures,Now  let  us  prove, 
That  no  strength  Shall  Abate  the  power  of  lo\e: 
Honour,  wit,  beauty,  Riches,  wise  men  call 
Frail    fortune's    Badges,    In  true  love  lies  all. 
Therefore  we  Yield  to  him,  our  Vows  shall  be 
Paid  —  Read,    and    written    in    Eternity: 
That  All  may  know  when  men  grant  no  Redress, 
Much   love   can   sweeten   the   unhappinessS. 

— Thomas  Jordan. 


272  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

Special  Acrostic 

A  Valentine 

Read  the  first  letter  of  the  first  line  in  connection  with 
the  second  letter  of  the  second  line,  the  third  letter  of  the 
third  line,  and  so  on  to  the  end. 

For  her  this  line  is  penned  whose  luminous  eyes. 

Brightly  expressive  as  the  twins  of  Loeda, 
Shall  find  her  own  sweet  name,  that,  nestling,  lies 

Upon  the  page,  enwrapped  from  every  reader. 
Search  narrowly  the  lines! — they  hold  a  treasure 

Divine, — a  talisman, — an  amulet 
That  must  be  worn  at  heart.    Search  well  the  measure 

The  words,  the  syllables!  Do  not  forget 
The  trivialest  point,  or  you  may  lose  your  labor! 

And  yet  there  is  in  this  no  Gordian  knot, 
Which  one  might  not  undo  without  a  sabre, 

If  one  could  merely  comprehend  the  plot. 
Enwritten  upon  the  leaf  where  now  are  peering 

Eyes  scintillating  soul,  there  lie  perdus, 
Three  eloquent  words  oft  uttered  in  the  hearing 

Of  poets,  by  poets,— as  the  name  is  a  poet's  too. 
Its  letters  although  naturally  lying 

Like  the  knight  Pinto — Mendez  Ferdinando, 
Still  form  a  synonym  for  Truth.    Cease  trying, 
You  will  not  read  the  riddle  though  you  do  the  best 
you  can  do. 

— Edgar  Allen  Poe. 


LIGHT    VERSE  273 

(4)    Enigma 
The  Letter  O 

Ten  fish  I  caught  without  an  eye, 

And  nine  without  a  tail; 
Six  had  no  head,  and  half  of  eight 

I  weighed  upon  the  scale. 
Now  who  can  tell  me,  as  I  ask  it, 

How  many  fish  were  in  my  basket? 

— Anonymous. 

(6)    Alliterative  Conceits 

Sudden  swallows  swiftly  skimming, 

Sunset's  slowly  spreading  shade. 
Silvery  songsters  sweetly  singing, 

Summer's  soothing  serenade.  Etc. 

— Anonymous. 

(6)    Letter  Verse 
A  Man  or  Letters 

An  A.B.  who  was  also  C  D, 
And  of  money  who  hadn't  N  E, 

"Said,  "I'll  write  an  S  A 

On  the  'Age  of  D  K,' 
And  I'll  sell  it  for  cash,  don't  U  C?" 

— Frank  M.  Bicknelj.. 


7J4  THE   ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

(7)    Geographical  Whimseys 

My  Widespread  Indebtedness 

Iowa  Tenn.  to  my  Cousin  Cal. 

I'll.  Pa.  it  as  soon  as  I  Kan. 
Del.  Johnsing  (Col.)  I  owe  for  the  Wash. 

And  Mo.  to  the  cook,  Miss.  Anne! 

Ohio  high  do  the  prices  fly! 

And  interest  has  Ariz. 
And  I  can't  be  Ga.  for  the  bills  I  must  Pa. 

O.  La.  but  'tis  sad,  I  Wis. ! 

If  I  could  find  a  man  I  could  Conn. 

I'd  Pa.  the  family  Md., 
But  I've  tried  the  loan  agents  o'er  and  Ore. 

And  I  meet  with  a  cold  N.  C. 

O.  Iowa  Tenn.  that  I  never  Kan.  Pa., 
And  the  V  a.  friend  wants  must  go  by; 

I'll,  never  Mo.  Pa.  the  Maine  Mass.  of  my  debts. 
But  Ala.  man  Kan.  do  is  (t)  R.  I.! 

— Augustine  W.  Breedin. 

(8)    Lipograms 

(I  the  only  vowel) 

Idling  I  sit  in  this  mild  twilight  dim, 
Whilst  birds,  in  wild  swift  vigils,  circling  skim. 
Light  wings  in  sighing  sink,  till,  rising  bright. 
Night's  Virgin  Pilgrim  swims  in  vivid  light. 

— Anonymous. 


light  verse  275 

The  Fate  of  Nassan 
(E  is  omitted) 

Bold  Nassan  quits  his  caravan, 
A  hazy  mountain  grot  to  scan ; 
Climbs  jaggy  rocks  to  spy  his  way, 
Doth  tax  his  sight,  but  far  doth  stray. 

Not  work  of  man,  nor  sport  of  child, 
Finds  Nassan  in  that  mazy  wild; 
Lax  grow  his  joints,  limbs  toil  in  vain — - 
Poor  wight !  Why  didst  thou  quit  that  plain ! 

Vainly  for  succor  Nassan  calls. 
Know,  Zillah,  that  thy  Nassan  falls; 
But  prowling  wolf  and  fox  may  joy 
To  quarry  on  thy  Arab  boy. 

— Anonymous. 

(9)    Ntimerical  Oddities 
"In  Mournful  Numbers" 

One  iders  at  the  4otude 

By  I  poor  youth  displayed; 
Whom  4tune's  cruel  4ce  pursued — 

He  4feited  a  maid! 

They'd  met  beside  a  ybush; 

The  hour  was  rather  18 ; 
His  loder  words  raised  many  a  blush; 

Begly  then  smiled  F8! 


276  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

For  when  F8  smiles  beg,  beware! 

'Tis  10  2  I  her  plan 
Is  2  call  4th  those  dogs  of  war 
She  6  upon  a  man! 

Those  dogs  rushed  4th — 4  dog  read  bull — 

The  maiden,  where  was  she? 
With  loder  care  4  her  quite  full 

The  lover  climbed  a  tree. 

He  clung  there  with  loacity; 

His  every  nerve  was  loce; 
Prepared  2  catch  the  maid  was  he, 

And  hold  her  in  suspense. 

Alas  4  him!   The  maid  mistook 

What  his  iniotions  were — 
As  4  the  bull,  his  head  he  shook 

And  tossed  her  otherwhere! 

You  won't  believe  the  %  5  told, 

Although  you  o  2  try. 
In  deference  to  the  maxim  old 

That  figures  do  not  lie! 

— George  B.  More  wood. 

\  (10)    Internal  Rhjrmes 

Beginning  Rhyme 

Rat-tat  it  went  upon  the  lion's  chin; 
"  That  hat,  I  know  it ! "    cried  the  joyful  girl ; 
"Summer's  it  is,  I  know  him  by  his  knock; 
Comers  like  him  (sic)  are  welcome  as  the  day ! 


LIGHT    VERSE  277 

Lizzy  \  go  down  and  open  the  street  door; 
Busy  I  am  to  any  one  but  him. 
Know  him  you  must — he  has  been  often  here, 
Show  him  upstairs,  and  tell  him  I'm  alone. "  Etc. 

— Thomas  Hood. 

Middle  Rhyme 

When  I,  sir,  play  at  cricket,  sick  it  makes  me  feel; 
For  I  the  wicket  kick  it  backward  with  my  heel. 
Then,  Oh !  such  rollers  bowlers  always  give  to  me, 
And  the  rounders,  grounders,  too,  rise  and  strike  my  knee; 
When  I  in  anguish  languish,  try  to  force  a  smile. 
While  laughing  critics  round  me  soimd  me  on  my  style. 

— A  nonymous. 

(11)    Prose  Verse 

The  Purist 

"William  Henry,"  said  the  parent,  and  his  voice  was 
sad  and  stern,  "I  detest  the  slang  you're  using;  will  you 
never,  never  learn  that  correct  use  of  our  language  is  a 
thing  to  be  desired?  All  your  common  bughouse  phrases 
make  the  shrinking  highbrow  tired.  There  is  nothing 
more  delightful  than  a  pure  and  careful  speech,  and  the 
man  who  weighs  his  phrases  always  stacks  up  as  a  peach, 
while  the  guy  who  shoots  his  larynx  in  a  careless  slipshod 
way  looms  up  as  a  selling-plater,  people  brand  him  for  a 
jay.  In  my  youth  my  father  soaked  me  if  I  entered  his 
shebang  handing  out  a  line  of  language  that  he  recognized 
as  slang.    He  would  take  me  to  the  cellar,  down  among  the 


278  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

mice  and  rats,  and  with  nice  long  sticks  of  stovewood  he'd 
play  solos  on  my  slats.  Thus  I  gained  a  deep  devotion  for 
our  language  undefiled,  and  it  drives  me  nearly  batty  when 
I  hear  my  only  child  springing  wads  of  hard-boiled  lan- 
guage such  as  dips  and  yeggmen  use,  and  I  want  a  reforma- 
tion or  I'll  stroke  you  with  my  shoes.  Using  slang  is  just  a 
habit,  just  a  cheap  and  dopey  trick ;  if  you  hump  yourself 
and  try  to,  you  can  shake  it  pretty  quick.  Watch  my 
curves  and  imitate  them,  weigh  your  words  before  they're 
spnmg,  and  in  age  you'll  bless  the  habit  that  you  formed 
when  you  were  young." 

— Walt  Mason. 

(12)  Alphabetical 

A  is  an  Angel  of  blushing  eighteen : 

B  is  the  Ball  where  the  Angel  was  seen : 

C  is  her  Chaperon,  who  cheated  at  cards: 

D  is  the  Deux  temps,  with  Frank  of  the  Guards :  Etc. 

— C.  S.  Calverley. 

(13)  Monorhymes 

To  Mrs.  Thrale  on  Her  Thirty-Fifth  Birthday 

Oft  in  danger,  yet  alive. 
We  are  come  to  thirty-five; 
Long  may  better  years  arrive. 
Better  years  than  thirty-five. 
Could  philosophers  contrive 
Life  to  stop  at  thirty-five. 
Time  his  hours  should  never  drive 
O'er  the  bounds  of  thirty-five. 


LIGHT    VERSE  279 

High  to  soar,  and  deep  to  dive, 
Nature  gives  at  thirty-five. 
Ladies,  stock  and  tend  your  hive, 
Trifle  not  at  thirty-five; 
For,  howe'er  we  boast  and  strive, 
Life  declines  from  thirty-five. 
He  that  ever  hopes  to  thrive 
Must  begin  by  thirty-five; 
And  all  who  wisely  wish  to  wive 
Must  look  on  Thrale  at  thirty-five. 

— Samuel  Johnson. 

(14)    Chain  Verse 
Chain  of  Single  Words 

Nerve  thy  soul  with  doctrines  noble, 

Noble  in  the  walks  of  time. 
Time  that  leads  to  an  eternal. 

An  eternal  life  sublime:    Etc. 


Anonymous. 


Chain  of  Phrases 


The  rarer  seen,  the  less  in  mind. 
The  less  in  mind,  the  lesser  pain, 
The  lesser  pain,  less  grief  I  find, 
The  lesser  grief,  the  greater  gain. 
The  greater  gain,  the  merrier  I, 
Therefore  I  wish  thy  sight  to  fly. 

— Barnaby  Googe. 


28o  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

(16)    Palindrome  Lines 

The  italicized  words  read  the  same  backward  as  forward. 

A  crazy  dentist  might  declare,  as  something  strange  or  new, 
That  Paget  saw  an  Irish  tooth,  sir,  in  a  waste  gap!  True! 
Etc. 

— H.  Campkin. 

(16)    Tongue  Twisters 

Betty  bit  a  bit  of  butter, 

Bitter  bit! 
But  a  better  bit  of  batter 

Betty  bit. 

— Anonymous. 

(17)    Equivocal 
Panegyric  on  the  Ladies 

Read  the  lines  regularly  or  alternately — that  is, — in  any 
of  three  ways:  i,  2,  3,  4,  etc.;  i,  3,  5,  7,  etc.;  or  2,  4,  6,  8. 

That  man  must  lead  a  happy  life 
Who's  free  from  matrimonial  chains. 

Who  is  directed  by  a  wife 
Is  sure  to  suffer  for  his  pains. 

Adam  could  find  no  solid  peace 
When  Eve  was  given  for  a  mate ; 

Until  he  saw  a  woman's  face 
Adam  was  in  a  happy  state.      Etc. 

— Anonymous. 


UGHT    VERSE  28 1 

(18)    Echo  Verses 

Echo 
Asked  of  Echo,  t'other  day 

(Whose  words  are  few  and  often  funny), 
What  to  a  novice,  she  could  say 

Of  courtship,  love  and  matrimony. 

Quoth   Echo,    plain:     "Matter-o'-money!" 

Whom  should  I  marry?    Should  it  be 

A  dashing  damsel  gay  and  pert, 
A  pattern  of  inconstancy; 

Or  selfish,  mercenary  flirt? 

Quoth  Echo  sharply:  "Nary  flirt! " 

What  if,  aweary  of  the  strife 

That  long  has  lured  the  dear  deceiver, 

She  promised  to  amend  her  life, 
And  sin  no  more ;  can  I  believe  her? 
Quoth  Echo,  very  promptly:   "Leave  her!" 

But  if  some  maiden  with  a  heart 

On  me  should  venture  to  bestow  it, 
Pray,  should  I  act  the  wiser  part 

To  take  the  treasure  or  forego  it? 

Quoth  Echo,  with  decision:  "Go  it!" 

But  what  if,  seemingly  afraid 

To  bind  her  fate  in  Hymen's  fetter, 
She  vows  she  means  to  die  a  maid, 

In  answer  to  my  loving  letter? 

Quoth  Echo,  rather  coolly:    "Let  her  I" 


282  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

What  if,  in  spite  of  her  disdain, 

I  find  my  heart  entwined  about 
With  Cupid's  dear  delicious  chain 

So  closely  that  I  can't  get  out? 

Quoth  Echo,  laughingly:  "Get  out." 

But  if  some  maid  with  beauty  blest, 

As  pure  and  fair  as  Heaven  can  make  her 

Will  share  my  labor  and  my  rest 
Till  envious  death  shall  overtake  her? 
Quoth  Echo  (sotto  voce):   "Take  her!" 

— John  Godfrey  Saxe. 

(19)    Anagram  Lines 

Telegram 

Though  but  a  late  germ,  with  a  wondrous  elation, 
Yet  like  a  great  elm  it  o'ershadows  each  station, 
Et  malgre  the  oflSce  is  still  a  large  free  mart. 
So  joyous  the  crowd  was,  you'd  thought  it  a  glee  marl, 
But  they  raged  at  no  news  from  the  nations  belligerent, 
And  I  said, "Let  'em  rage,  since  the  air  is  refrigerant. "  Etc. 

— Dr.  John  Abernkthy. 

(20)    Disclosed  Anagram 

Bertha 

(The  italicized  words  are  made  up  of  the  same  letters.) 

Lady  Bertha,  the  beautiful  bather,  one  day, 

After  swimming  and  diving  and  splashing  away, 

Found  her  breath  was  not  equal  to  further  display. 

So  starting  for  cricket,  she  took  up  her  bat. 

When  the  wind  found  a  berth  'cross  the  bar  for  her  hat  I 

— Anonymous. 


LIGHT    VERSE  283 

(21)    Charade 
Disconsolate 

O'er  distant  hills  the  rising  moon 

The  evening  mist  dispersed, 
And  beaming  in  the  radiant  sky 

She  plainly  showed  my  first. 

A  horseman  guided  by  her  light 
Approached  with  headlong  speed, 

And  as  he  rode,  my  second  said 
To  urge  his  flagging  steed. 

His  lady  waited  at  the  gate, 
Though  trysting  hour  was  past; 

She  was  my  whole,  because  her  lord 
Was  then  my  third  and  last! 

— Anonymous. 

(22)    Btiried  Names 
Names  of  Eight  British  Poets 

The  sun  is  darting  rays  of  gold 

Upon  the  moor,  enchanting  spot, 
Whose  purple  heights,  by  Ronald  loved, 

Up  open  to  his  shepherd  cot. 
And  sundry  denizens  of  air 

Are  flying,  aye  each  to  his  nest ; 
And  eager  make  at  such  an  hour 

All  haste  to  reach  the  mansions  blest. 

— A  nonymoui 


284  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

(Gray,  Moore,  Byron,  Pope,  Dryden,  Gay,  Keats,  and 
Hemans.) 

(23)    Irregular  Lines 

As  a  final  example  out  of  the  countless  varieties  avail- 
able, we  take  the  "Yawp" — to  adopt  the  expressive  term 
used  by  that  fertile  yawper,  Mr.  W.  J.  Lampton.  Miss 
Wells  has  produced  a  typical  "Yawp"  in  the  following: 

Dithyramb  to  an  Aeroplane 
O! 

Aeroplane ! 

Thou  product  of  the  mighty  modern  brain, 
Whose  flight  is  faster  than  a  railroad  train. 
To  thee  I  sing! 

For  thee  I  set  my  Pegasus  a-wing 
And  bring 

A  meed  of  praise.    Although 
Just  how  much  is  a  meed  I  do  not  know. 
But  that's  nor  here  nor  there. 
Aeroplane, 
O! 

Bird  of  the  upper  air, — 

Though  I  admit  that  there 

Is  where 

Most  birds  pursue  their  trackless  way, — 

I  hail  thy  day! 

I'm  glad  that  thou  hast  settled  down  to  stay, — 

Well,  no,  I  don't  mean  that!    'Twas  said  in  fun, — 

I  mean,  thy  glorious  day  has  now  begun. 


LIGHT  VERSE  285 

But  tell  US,  winged  one, 

How  is  't  up  there 

In  the  high  upper  air? 

Are  the  roads  good?    And  is  the  scenery  fair? 

Is  speeding  fun?    Or  do  aerial  cops 

Demand  thy  sudden  stops? 

I  may  as  well  admit 

I'm  scared  a  bit 

At  thought  of  new  conditions  brought  about 

By  thine  exalted  route. 

Must  I 

Henceforward  walk  with  eyes  upon  the  sky, 

With  head  thrown  back,  neck  strained  and  gaze  upbent, 

Fearing  thy  swift  descent? 

Or  dreading  lest  thou  chance  to  drop  about 

Some  rubbish  thou  canst  do  without? 

Or  must  I  stay  at  home, 

Fearing  abroad  to  roam, 

Lest  careless  chaps  fling  from  those  regions  higher 

Lighted  cigars,  and  set  my  house  on  tire? 

O  Aeroplane, 

These  wonderings  are  vain! 

So  much  I  want  to  know. 

Aeroplane,  O! 

Things  thou  alone  canst  tell — 

That — well — 

With  thee  I  fain  would  chin; 

So,  if  thou'rt  passing  by — drop  in  I 

— Carolyn  Wells. 


286  the  art  of  versification 

Exercises  for  Class  Use  and  Self-Instruction 

1.  Briefly  discuss  Horace's  line,  quoted  on  page  221. 

2.  Select  a  humorous  poem  of  high  grade  and  point  out 
its  humorous  qualities. 

3.  Do  the  same  for  a  witty  poem. 

Note:  Exercises  of  this  sort  may  be  applied  to  other 
forms  indefinitely. 

4.  Discuss  "John  Gilpin's  Ride,"  by  Cowper. 

5.  Compare  the  humorous  verse  of  Oliver  Herford  with 
that  of  Gelett  Burgess  (see  present  day  magazines). 

6.  Compare  the  humor  of  John  Hay's  poem,  "Little 
Breeches,"  with  that  of  Bret  Harte's  "Jim,"  or  his 
"Truthful  James"  (sometimes  called  "The  Heathen 
Chinee"). 

7.  Do  the  same  for  any  other  two  well  known  poems 
which  are  generally  classed  as  hmnorous. 

8.  Select  two  sets  of  verses  which  illustrate  the  difference 
(a)  between  ordinary  parody  and  extravaganza;  (b)  bur- 
lesque and  extravaganza. 

9.  Tell  what  you  know  from  experience  or  observation 
of  the  quality  of  the  "lyrics"  used  in  musical  plays  today. 

10.  If  in  light  verse  a  highly  poetic  line  rich  in  imagery 
be  introduced,  will  it  have  a  tendency  to  help  or  to  hurt 
the  verse?    Say  why. 

11.  Write  brief  differentiating  definitions  of  verse  of  the 
following  classifications:  Vers  de  Societe,  Satirical,  Hu- 
morous, Nonsense,  and  Whimsical  Verse. 

12.  Which  seems  to  you  to  be  the  sort  best  worth  at- 
tempting?   Give  reasons. 


LIGHT  VERSE  287 

13.  If  Vers  de  Societe  appeals  to  you,  write  several  verses 
in  that  style  upon  a  theme  that  you  think  should  prove 
attractive  to  the  leading  magazines. 

14.  (a)  Name  an  example  of  humorous  verse  that 
appeals  to  you;  {b)  try  to  analyze  and  to  capture  the  spirit 
of  its  humor;  {c)  write  a  stanza  or  two  embodying  a  dif- 
ferent thought  but  with  the  same  humorous  turn  or  con- 
struction. 

15.  Write  a  satirical  stanza  ridiculing  some  fashionable 
foible  or  custom  that  seems  to  you  to  be  in  bad  taste. 

16.  Has  satire  often  wrought  reforms? 

17.  Write  a  limerick  upon  the  subject  of  your  desire  to 
write  a  limerick. 

Note:  Unlimited  imitations  of  whimsical  forms  may 
be  taken  up  as  additional  assignments. 


APPENDICES 

APPENDIX  A 
Glossary  of  Metrical  Terms 

Verse:  A  line  of  poetry;  literally,  the  turn  at  the  end  of  a 
furrow;  often  loosely  used  for  stanza;  also  used  for 
poetry  in  general. 

Stanza:  A  series  of  lines  forming  a  typical  group,  or  part, 
of  a  poem. 

Foot:  A  group  of  syllables  consisting  of  accented  and 
unaccented  (or  long  and  short,  or  strong  and  weak), 
syllables  in  various  combinations,  as  follows: 

Iambus:  A  foot  of  two  syllables,  the  first  unaccented,  the 
second  accented. 

Trochee:  A  foot  of  two  syllables,  the  first  accented,  the 
second  unaccented — the  reverse  of  the  iambus. 

Anapaest:  A  foot  of  three  syllables,  the  first  and  second 
unaccented,  the  last  accented. 

Dactyl:  A  foot  of  three  syllables,  the  first  accented,  the 
second  and  third  unaccented — the  reverse  of  the 
anapaest. 

Amphibrach:  A  foot  of  three  syllables,  the  first  un- 
accented, the  second  accented,  the  third  unaccented 
— the  reverse  of  the  amphimacer. 

Amphimacer:  A  foot  of  three  syllables,  the  first  accented, 
the  second  unaccented,  the  third  accented. 


APPENDICES  289 

Spondee:  A  foot  consisting  of  two  equally  accented  sylla- 
bles; a  true  spondee  is  almost  unknown  in  English 
verse. 

Pyrrhic:  A  foot  consisting  of  two  unaccented  syllables - 
the  reverse  of  the  spondee.  This  term  is  seldom 
used.*  The  spondaic  foot  and  the  pyrrhic  are  ex- 
ceptions to  our  definition  of  the  foot. 

Choriamb:  A  foot  of  four  syllables,  the  first  and  fourth 
accented,  the  second  and  third  unaccented.  This 
term  also  is  seldom  used. 

Monometer  :  A  line  of  verse  consisting  of  one  foot. 
Dimeteb  •  A  line  consisting  of  two  feet. 
Trimeter:  A  line  consisting  of  three  feet. 
Tetrameter:  A  line  consisting  of  four  feet. 
Pentameter  :  A  line  consisting  of  five  feet. 
Hexameter:  A  line  consisting  of  six  feet. 
Heptameter:  A  line  consisting  of  seven  feet. 
Octameter:  A  line  consisting  of  eight  feet. 

Catalectic:  A  catalectic  line  is  one  that  drops  part  of 
the  last  foot;  a  line  dropping  a  final  syllable  or 
syllables. 

Acatalectic:  A  line  which  has  the  complete  number  of 
syllables  in  the  last  foot. 

Heroic  Verse  :  Iambic  pentameter,  or  a  line  of  five  iambic 
feet  (ten  syllables). 


'Note. — Nearly  all  English  meters  may  be  scanned  by  the  use  of  one  or  other 
of  the  four  kinds  of  metrical  feet  first  mentioned  above,  viz.:  iambus, 
trochee,  anapsst,  or  dactyl. 


290  THE  ART  OF  VERSIFICATION 

Elegiac  Verse:    Alternate  hexameter  and  pentameter 
lines. 

Alexandrine  Verse:  Iambic  hexameter,  or  a  line  of  six 

iambic  feet  (twelve  syllables). 
Caesura:  Literally  division;  the  pause  in  the  middle  of  a 

line.    In  classic  verse  it  falls  at  the  end  of  a  word,  but 

usually  in  the  middle  of  a  foot;    in  English  verse  it 

should  fall  at  the  end  of  both  foot  and  word. 
Strophe:  The  first  movement  or  section  of  a  Greek  ode; 

sometimes  used  for  stanza. 
Antistrophe:    The  second  movement  of  a  Greek  ode, 

following  the  strophe  and  identical  with  it  in    the 

meter. 
Epode:    Literally  an  after-song;    the  third  section  of  a 

Greek  ode,  differing  in  meter  from  the  strophe  and  the 

antistrophe. 


APPENDIX  B 

Some  Books  for  the  Further  Study  of  Versification 

A  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  poetry  and  an  acquaint- 
ance with  a  wide  range  of  poems  are  of  course  fundamental 
to  an  extended  study  of  the  technique  of  verse.  A  number 
of  books  on  poetry,  as  well  as  representative  collections  of 
poems,  are  named  in  Appendix  C.  Those  who  would 
make  a  more  exhaustive  study  of  metrical  forms  than  is 
afforded  by  this  little  book,  will  find  help  in  the  following 
volumes — a  few  among  many  such: 

Edwin  Guest's  "History  of  English  Rhythms"  (1838), 
Second  Edition,  Revised  by  Prof.  W.  W.  Skeat  (London: 
Bell,  1882);  and  George  Saintsbury's  "History  of  English 
Prosody,"  3  vols.  (London  and  New  York:  Macmillan, 
1906-1910),  are  exhaustive  and  learned  works.  One  of 
the  best  of  the  smaller  treatises  is  F.  B.  Gummere's 
"  Handbook  of  Poetics  "  (Boston :  Ginn,  1891).  Raymond 
M.  Alden's  "English  Verse"  (New  York:  Holt,  1903)  is 
enriched  by  a  large  number  of  poetic  examples  illustrating 
the  whole  range  of  versification.  T.  S.  Omond's  "  English 
Metrists"  (Timibridge  Wells:  Pelton,  1903)  is  especially 
valuable  for  its  bibliography.  Special  phases  of  prosody 
may  also  be  studied  in  special  books  like  the  following: 

"Science  of  English  Verse,"  Sidney  Lanier  (New^York: 
Scribner's,  1880)  (lays  emphasis  on  sound^and  rhythm) ; 


292  ART   OF   VERSIFICATION 

"The  Musical  Basis  of  Verse,"  Josephine  P.  Dabney 
(London  and  New  York:  Longmans,  1901);  "Essays  on 
Blank  Verse,"  John  Addington  Symonds  (New  York: 
Scribner,  1895);  "Sonnets  of  this  Century,"  William 
Sharp  (London:  Scott,  1886);  "Hexameter  Verse," 
P.  Cummings  (Cambridge,  Mass:  1900);  "History  of 
Epic  Poetry  (post  Virgilian),"  John  Clark  (Edinburgh, 
1900);  "Old  English  Ballads,"  F.  B.  Gummere  (Boston: 
Ginn,  1904);  and  many  others.  Dr.  Gummere's  work 
contains  a  valuable  introduction  and  helpful  notes.  See 
also  the  standard  encyclopedias  for  both  special  and  gen- 
eral articles  on  versification.  The  "Reader's  Guide," 
"Poole's  Index  to  Periodical  Literature,"  and  similar 
cumulative  reference  devices,  will  furnish  titles  to  all 
articles  on  the  general  and  specific  subjects  desired  which 
have  appeared  in  periodicals  for  a  number  of  years. 


APPENDIX  C 
Helps  in  the  Study  of  Poetry 

The  first  requisite  for  the  study  of  poetry  is  poetry. 
But  in  what  form  shall  one  buy  or  borrow  it? 

The  complete  poetic  works  of  any  one  writer  will  be 
valuable  chiefly  to  those  who  are  instructed  as  to  which 
are  his  best  poems.  Besides,  to  own  the  complete 
works  of  the  many  authors  whose  poetry  should  be  ex- 
amined means  a  large  expenditure  of  money,  book-space, 
and  time  for  reading.  To  most  students,  therefore,  col- 
lections are  invaluable.  Of  these  there  are  many — even 
many  good  ones.  In  the  following  greatly  condensed 
lists,  only  poetry  in  English  is  considered. 

I.  General  Collections 

"A  Library  of  the  World's  Best  Literature,"  edited  by 
Charles  Dudley  Warner  and  a  corps  of  litterateurs  (a  sub- 
scription work,  in  31  and  46  volumes),  contains  two  well- 
selected  volumes  of  "Songs,  Hymns,  and  Lyrics,"  besides 
extended  (mostly  signed)  articles  on,  and  abundant  ex- 
amples from,  the  poets  of  all  lands.  "The  World's  Best 
Poetry"  (also  a  subscription  work,  in  5  and  10  volumes), 
edited  by  Bliss  Carman  and  others,  contains  a  good  gen- 
eral collection  of  poems  classified  according  to  themes, 


394  ART    OF   VERSIPICATIOK 

together  with  a  number  of  popular  signed  essays  on  poetry 
subjects.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman's  "Victorian  An- 
thology" and  "American  Anthology"  (Boston:  Houghton, 
MiflSin  &  Co.,  1895  and  1900)  form,  combined,  an  excellent 
general  collection  of  limited  scope. 

2.  British  Anthologies 

Frances  T.  Palgrave's  "Golden  Treasur>'"  (London  and 
New  York:  Macmillans,  1861-1891)  is  a  good  inexpensive 
collection,  comprising  339  poems.  "The  Oxford  Book  of 
English  Verse,"  edited  by  A.  T.  Quiller-Couch  (Oxford: 
Clarendon  Press,  1900)  is  also  good.  Two  carefully  edited 
volumes,  which  together  constitute  the  best  low-priced 
collection  of  annotated  British  poems,  are  "Standard 
English  Poems,"  edited  by  Henry  S.  Pancoast  (New  York: 
Holt,  1899),  and  "Early  English  Poems,"  edited  by  Henry 
S.  Pancoast  and  John  Duncan  Spaeth  (New  York:  Holt, 
191 1).  The  most  adequate,  because  the  most  extended, 
British  annotated  anthology  issued  in  America  is  "Enghsh 
Poems,"  edited  by  Walter  C.  Bronson  (University  of 
Chicago  Press,  1907-1910),  in  four  volumes  (averaging 
over  500  pp.  each),  comprising:  "Old  English  and  Middle 
EngUsh  Periods,"  "Elizabethan  Age  and  Puritan  Period," 
"Restoration  and  Eighteenth  Century,"  and  "Nineteenth 
Century."  The  arrangement  of  the  profuse  selections 
shows  the  rise  and  decline  of  successive  schools  of  poe- 
try, the  several  hundred  pages  of  notes  are  illuminat- 
ing, and  the  indexes,  glossaries  and  bibliographies  are 
very  full.    Three  well  selected  volumes  of  British  verse 


APPENDICES  295 

have  been  edited  with  discriminating  notes  and  biographi- 
cal data  by  William  Stanley  Braithwaite.  "The  Book  of 
Elizabethan  Verse"  (Boston:  Turner  &  Co.,  1907);  "The 
Book  of  Restoration  Verse"  (New  York:  Brentano,  1909) ; 
and  "The  Book  of  Georgian  Verse"  (New  York:  Bren- 
tano, 1908) 

J.  American  Anthologies 

Dr.  Bronson  has  issued  (191 2)  a  volume  of  "American 
Poems,"  on  the  same  excellent  plan  as  his  "English 
Poems,"  and  published  by  the  same  Press.  Admirable 
as  this  anthology  is,  it  must  share  its  eminence  with  the 
"Yale  Book  of  American  Verse,"  edited  by  Thomas  R. 
Lounsbury  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  1912). 
Both  are  full,  varied,  and  represent  the  selections  of  ripe 
scholarship. 

4.     The  Theory  of  Poetry 

Aristotle's  "Poetics,"  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  "An  Apolo,s;ie 
for  Poetics,"  and  the  three  long  poems  by  Horace,  Vida, 
and  Boileau,  each  entitled  "The  Art  of  Poetry,"  are  still 
interesting  and  illuminating  as  examples  of  former-day 
theory.  (For  annotated  editions  of  all  except  Aristotle, 
see  Ginn's  catalogue,  Boston.)  For  a  study  of  origins,  see 
"The  Evolution  of  Literature,"  A.  S.  MacKenzie  (New 
York:  Crowell,  191 1),  and  "The  Beginnings  of  Poetry," 
F.  B,  Gummere  (New  York  and  London:  Macmillan, 
1 901).  An  exhaustive  treatise  is  "The  History  of  English 
Poetry,"  Thomas  Wharton  (London:  Ward,  Lock  &  Co., 


296  ART  OF   VERSIFICATION 

1778  et  seq).  "What  is  Poetry,"  Leigh  Hunt,  edited  by 
Albert  S.  Cook  (Boston:  Ginn,  1893),  is  not  only  a  charm- 
ing essay  in  itself  but  cites  largely  the  opinions  of  dis- 
tinguished men  of  letters.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman's 
"The  Nature  and  Elements  of  Poetry"  (Boston:  Hough- 
ton, Mifflin  &  Co.,  1892)  is  a  sound,  though  somewhat 
oratorical  presentment  of  the  subject  (the  lectures  were 
delivered  at  Johns  Hopkins  University).  A  scholarly  and 
clear-sighted  treatise  is  "Introduction  to  Poetry,"  Ray- 
mond M.  Alden  (New  York:  Holt,  1909).  There  are  also 
in  general  literature  many  accessible  essays  bearing  on 
the  nature  of  poetry;  some  of  the  best  of  these  are :  Shel- 
ley's "Defense  of  Poesy;"  Emerson's  essays  on  "The 
Poet"  and  "Poetry  and  Imagination;"  Wordsworth's 
introduction  to  the  "Lyrical  Ballads;"  Matthew  Arnold's 
essays  "On  Translating  Homer,"  introduction  to  the 
"Poetry  of  Wordsworth,"  "Celtic  Poetry,"  etc.;  Lowell's 
"Essay  on  Dryden;"  Macaulay's  "Essay  on  Milton," 
etc.;  and  Poe's  essays  on  "The  Rationale  of  Verse,"  "The 
Poetic  Principle,"  and  "The  Philosophy  of  Composition." 


APPENDIX  D 

Light  Verse 

The  fullest  and  most  satisfactory  anthologies  of  light 
verse  are  those  edited  by  Carolyn  Wells,  beginning  with 
"A  Parody  Anthology"  and  followed  by  the  anthologies 
of  "Satire,"  "Whimsey,"  "Vers  de  Societe,"  and  "Non- 
sense" (New  York:  Scribner,  1904,  '5,  '6,  '7,  and  '10). 
Each  volume  is  prefaced  by  an  interpretive  essay.  A.  S. 
Martin's  "On  Parody"  (New  York:  Holt,  1896)  contains 
not  only  an  admirably  discriminating  study  of  the  form 
but  a  choice  collection  of  verses  interspersed  with  the  text. 


INDEX 


Abernethy,  John,  282. 
Absalom    and      Achitophel, 

231. 
Acatalectic  line,  289. 
Accent,  41,  44,  47,  288,  289, 

290. 
Acrostics,  271-272. 
Adams,    W.     Davenport, 

223. 
Addison,  Joseph,  230. 
Address  to  the  Unco  Quid, 

233- 
Alneid,  132,  134. 
Algous,  183, 
Alcaics,  183. 
Alden,  R.  M.,  3. 
Alexander's  Feast,  150. 
Alexandrine,  114,  290. 
"Alice     in     Wonderland," 

256. 
Alliteration,  37,  74,  83-89, 

273- 
Alphabetical  Verse,  278. 
Amateur  Flute,  The,  249. 
Amphibrach,  37,  186,  288. 


Names  of  authors  are  printed  in  capitals,  titles  of  books 
are  enclosed  in  quotations,  titles  of  "poems"  (whether 
light  verse,  short  poems,  or  long  poetic  works)  are  printed 
in  italics,  and  other  topics  are  set  in  plain,  or  "roman," 
type. 

Amphimacer,  37,  186,  288. 
Amphion,  15. 
Anagram  lines,  282. 
Anapaest,    37,    40,    41,    51, 

186,  288,  289. 
Another  Wise  Man,  252. 
Antistrophe,  147,  148,  290. 
Antithesis,  31. 
Arrow  and  the  Song,   The, 

214. 
Arsis,  47. 
"Apologie  for  Poetrie,  An," 

10,  15. 
Apostrophe,  32. 
Appendix,  288. 
Archaic  verse,  267. 
Ariosto,  132. 
Aristophanes,  222,  237. 
Aristotle,  8. 
"Aristotle's      Theory      of 

Poetics   and    Fine   Art," 

47- 
Arnold,  Matthew,  7,  91, 

107,  167. 

Ars  Poetica,  ix,  12,  221. 

Assonance,  83-89. 


298 


INDEX 


299 


As  You  Like  It,  145. 
"Atlanta  Georgian,"  242. 
"Atlantic  Essays,"  100. 
'*At  the  Lattice,  "224. 
Attis,  The,  186 
At  Yule  Time,  269. 
Austin,  Alfred,  ii,  224. 
Autumnal  Love  Song,   An, 
265. 

B 

Bab  Ballads,  77,  256. 
Bacon,  Francis,  8. 
Ballad,  The,  16,  73,  88,  127, 

152-155,  188. 
Ballad  measure,  153. 
Ballad  of  Bedlam,  The,  260. 
Ballad  of  Bouillabaisse,  The, 

224,  226,  227. 
Ballad   of  East   and   West, 

The,  64,  66,  87. 
Ballade,  The,  188,  205. 
Ballade   a    double   refrain, 

192,  193. 
Ballade  of  Dead  Ladies,  190. 
Ballade  of  Prose  and  Rhyme, 

The,  193. 
Ballade  of  Ten  Lines,  191. 
Ballade    of   the    Voyage    to 

Cytherea,  192. 
"Ballades  and  Rondeaus," 

188. 
Ballade,  The  Double,  192. 
Bangs,    John    Kendrick, 

244. 
Bard,  The,  149. 
Barham,  R.  H.,  77, 
Bal,  The,  247. 


Beat,  41. 

Beauty,  11,  19. 

Beginning-rhyme,  74,  276. 

Bell  Buoy,  The,  64. 

Bells,  The,  94,  95. 

Bells  of  Shandon,  The,  84,95. 

Beowulf,  131. 

Bernard   of    Cluny    (de 

MoRLAs),  75. 
Bertha,  282. 
Beware,  224. 
"Bible,  The,"  155. 
BiCKNELL,  Frank  M.,  273. 
Biglow    Papers,    229,    230, 

235»  244. 
"Biographia  Literaria,"  12. 
Blair,  Samuel,  8. 
Blank  verse,  133-139,  140- 

146. 
Boccaccio,  G.,  15. 
boileau,  n.,  69,  80. 
"Boston  Traveler,"  241. 
Breedin,  a.  W.,  274. 
Bridge  of  Sighs,  The,  52,  72, 

73,  74; 
Bridge,  The,  247. 
Bridges,  Robert,  201. 
Brook,  The,  62. 
"Brooklyn  Eagle,"  261. 
Brougham  Castle,  t,^,. 
Browning,  Mrs.  E.  B.,  51, 

57,   114,   171,    174,   222, 

234- 
Browning,    Robert,    62, 

76,  87,  97,  120,  138,  145, 

168,  215. 
Bryant,  W.  C.,  119. 
"Buffalo   Evening  News," 

a6i. 


300 


IKDEX 


Bugle,  75. 

Burger,  Gottfried,  98. 

Burgess,  Gelett,  256. 

Buried  names,  283. 

Burlesque,  246. 

Burns,  Robert,  113,  120, 

160,  215,  217,  222,  233. 
Butcher,  S.  H.,  47. 
Butler,  Samuel,  233. 
Byron,  Lord,  31,  32,  51, 

70,   113,   120,   133,    229, 

284. 


Ccpsar,  Julius,  ^s,  34- 
Ca-sura,  115,  i35-i37j  181, 

290. 
Calverley,  C.  S.,  278. 
Campbell,  Thomas,  127. 
Campkin,  H.,  280. 
Canning  and  Frere,  185. 
Canterbury  Tales,  no. 
Carey,  Phcebe,  248. 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  10,  25. 
Carmagnole,  le,  60. 
Carrlere,  D.  D.,  7. 
Carroll,  Lewis,  247,  255, 

256,  257,  258. 
Casa  Guidi  Windows,  114. 
Catalectic  line,  50,  53,  185, 

289. 
Cataract  of  Lodore,  93. 
Celestial  Country,  The,  75. 
Cento  verse,  266. 
Century  of  Roundels,  196. 
Chanson  de  Roland,  le,  83. 
Charades,  283. 
Chain  of  Phrases,  279. 


Chain  of  Single  Words,  279. 
Chain  verse,  279. 
Chant  royal.  The,  205-208. 
Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade, 

si- 
Chaucer,    Geoffrey,    15, 

no.  III,  188,  250. 
Chevy  Chase,  152. 
Chiasm,  34. 
' '  Chicago  Record-Herald , ' ' 

261. 
Childe  Harold,  5,  32,  113. 
Children      of     the      Lord's 

Supper,  181. 
Choriambus,  185,  289. 
Chorus,  147. 

Christabel,  55,  loi,  124,  125. 
Christmas,  245. 
Clear  Vision,  The,  48. 
"Cleveland  Plain  Dealer," 

261. 
Clerke  of  ye  Wethere,   Ye, 

250. 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  5,  12,  27, 

28,  37,  55.  loi,  102,  103, 

107,  115,  124,  125,  180, 

181,  222. 
Collins,  William,  238. 
Come  down,  O  maid,  160. 
Come  into  the  Garden,  Maud, 

108. 
Common  meter,  115. 
Contraction,  126. 
"  Conversations    on    Some 

Old  Poets,"  I. 
Cotter's     Saturday     Night, 

The,  113. 
Couplet,  116. 


INDEX 


301 


coukthope,  w.  j.,  3. 
Cowley,  R.,  149. 
CowPER,  W.,  51,  57,  115. 
Crawford,  Louisa  M.,  218. 
Crossing  the  Bar,  118. 
Crown  of  Sonnets,  A,  171. 

D 

Dactyl,  37,  40,  41,  51,  52, 

53, 186,  288,  289. 
Dancing,  17,  37,  189. 
Daniel,  Arnaut,  208. 
Danny  Deever,  64,  65. 
Dante,  79, 85, 114, 132, 208. 
Davis,  L.  C,  252. 
Death  Bed,  The,  34. 
De  Contemptu  Mundi,  75. 
"Defense  of  Poetry,  A,"  7, 

8,  10. 
Deceitful  Balladist,  Ye,  267. 
Delight,  12,  39,  loi. 
"Denver  Post,"  242. 
Descent  of  Briggs,  The,  270. 
Destruction  of  Sennacharib, 

The,  51. 
"Detroit  Free  Press,"  261. 
Dialect  verse,  267. 
Diction,   22. 
"Dichtung  und  Wahrheit," 

II. 
Dimeter,  53,  289. 
Disconsolate,  283. 
Dithyramb  to  an  Aeroplane, 

284. 
Divine  Comedy,  114,  132. 
DoBSON,  Austin,  193,  195, 

196,  204,  205,  223,  227. 
DoDGSON,  Charles  L.  (See 

Lewis  Carroll). 


Double  Ballade,  The,  190. 
Double  rhyme,  72,  76. 
Dover  Beach,  91. 
DowD,  C.  B.,  243. 
Drama,  20. 

"  Dramatic  Art  and  Litera- 
ture," 140. 
Dramatic  pause,  142. 
Dramatic  poetry,  140-146. 
Drayton,  Michael,  121. 
Dream  of  Fair  Women,  A, 

3I;  91- 

Drummond  of  Hawthorn- 
den,  171. 

Dryden,  John,  150,  229, 
284. 

Duenna,  The,  226. 

Dunbar,  Paul  Lawrence, 
245- 


Earthly  Paradise,  The,  112. 
Eastman,  Charles  G.,  266. 
Echo,  281. 
Echo  verses,  281. 
Edward,  Edward,  i^j. 
IClegiac  meter,  181. 
Elegiac  verse,  115,  290. 
Elegy  in  a  Country  Church- 
yard, 42,  44,  45,  48,  52, 

53- 
Elegy  on  the  Death  of  a  Mad 

Dog,  239. 
Eliot,  George,  34,  56,  84. 
Elision,  126. 
Ellis,  Robinson,  186. 
Emerson,  R.  W.,  7,   116, 

222. 
Emotion,  5,  6,  39. 


302 


INDEX 


End-stopped  lines,  144. 

End-rhyme,  73. 

English     heroic     measure. 

Enigma,  273. 

Ennius,   15. 

Envoy,  The,  189-194. 

"Encyclopedia  Brittanica," 
6. 

Epic,  16,  19,  130-132,  140, 
179. 

Epodes,  290 

Equivocal  lines,  280. 

Eskitology,   260. 

Essay  on  Criticism,  30,  90. 

"Essay  on  Milton,"  8. 

Evangeline,  6,  181. 

Eve  of  St.  Agnes,  113. 

Exclamation,  34. 

Exercises,  13,  20,  35,  45, 
55,  67,  80,  88,  98,  108, 
122,  128,  132,  138,  145, 
151,  155,  161,  176,  186, 
213,  219,  286. 

Expansion,  126. 

Extravaganza,  246. 


Faerie  Queen,  The,  113,  114, 
Fair  Annie   of  Lochroyan, 

153- 
Fairchild,  H.  R.,  22. 
Faithless  Nelly  Gray,  238. 
FaitlUess  Sally  Brown,  239. 
Familiar   Letter   to   Several 

Correspondents,  A,  334. 
Fate  of  Nassan,  The,  275. 
Father  O'Flynn,  76. 
Feminine  endings,  143. 


Feminine  rhyme.  72. 
Firkins,  Chester,  243. 
Fitzgerald,  Edward,  118. 
"Florida    Times-Union," 

261. 
Folk-Mote  by  the  River,  The, 

24. 
Foot,  40,  47-58,   59,   288, 

289. 
Foot-note  to  a  Famous  Lyric, 

159- 
Form,  38. 

French  forms,  188-213. 
Friend  in  Need,  A ,  268. 
Friend  of  Humanity  and  tlie 

Knife-Grinder,  The,   184. 


Galliambic,  185. 
Gay,  Thomas,  284. 
Geographical   whimseys, 

274. 
Giaour,  The,  31. 
Gilbert,  W.  S.,  77,   256, 

263. 
Gilder,  R.  W.,  174. 
Glass,  Dudley,  242. 
Glossary,  288. 
Goethe,  J.    W.   von,    ii, 

232. 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  239. 
Googe,  Barnaby,  279. 
GossE,  Edmund,  149,  210. 
GowER,  J.,  15. 
Graves,  A.  P.,  76. 
Groves  of  Blarney,  The,  84. 
Gray,  Thomas,  42,  45,  48, 

52,  53,  149,  284. 
Greene,  Albert  G.,  228. 


INDEX 


303 


GuiNEY,   Louise   Imogen, 
159- 

GUMMERE,  F.  B.,  7,  59,  152. 

H 
Halleck,    Fitz-Greene, 

34. 
Hamlet,  142,  143. 
Hammerton,  p.  G.,  I. 
Hancock,  La  Touche,  236, 

237,  239. 
"Handbook  of  Poetics,"  7. 
Hardy,   Robert   T.,    264, 

265. 
Hegel,  G.  W.  F.,  10. 
Heine,  H.,  38. 
Hemans,  Felicia,  284. 
Hendecasyllabics,  182. 
Henley,  W.  E.,  194,  197, 

198,  222. 
Henry  IV,  86. 
Heptameter,   289. 
Herford,  Oliver,  256. 
Heroes,  60. 
Heroic  Couplets,  114. 
Heroic  poetry,  179. 
Heroic  verse,  289. 
Herrick,  Robert,  117. 
Hesiod,  15. 
Hexameter,   115,   179,  289, 

290. 
Hiawatha,  51. 

HiGGINSON,  T.  W.,  100. 

His  Plan,  239. 
Hodgson,  S.  H.,  133. 
Holmes,  0.  W.,  121,  222, 

234- 
Homer,  15,  25,  38,  92,  107, 

i3i>  134. 


Homeric  compoimds,  25. 
Homeric  unity,  166. 
Hood,  Thomas,  34,  52,  72, 

73,  74  .238,  239,  242.  266, 

277. 
Horace,  ix,   12,  221,  222, 

228. 
"Houston  Post,"  262. 
Hovering  accent,  127. 
How  do  I  love  thee?  174. 
How,  M.  W.,  115. 
How  They  Brought  the  Good 

News  from  Ghent  to  Aix, 

97- 
Howard,  Henry,  163. 
Hubbard,  James  H.,  241, 

264. 
Hudibras,  233. 
Hugo,  Victor,  161,  210. 
"Human    Tragedy,    The," 

II. 
Humor,  228,  237. 
Humorous  verse,  237. 
Hunt,  Leigh,  3,  8, 109, 175. 
Hymn  before  Sunrise,  27,  28. 
Hyperbole,  33. 
Hyperion,  145. 

I 

Iambus,  37,  40,  41,  48,  52, 
no,  III,  1X2,  113,  186,  288, 

289. 
Ich  bin  Dein,  267. 
/  count  my  time,  etc.,  174. 
Idyls  of  the  King,  145. 
Iliad,  114,  131. 
Imagery,  28. 
Imagination,  8,  23,  29. 
Imperfect  rhymes,  70. 


304 


INDEX 


In  a  Drear-Nighted  Decem- 
ber, 78. 

Indenting  lines,  121,  122. 

Ingoldsby  Legends,  The,  77. 

In  Memoriam,  6, 31, 33, 117. 

In  Mournfid  Numbers,  275 

Inner  impulse  of  verse,  63, 
66. 

Internal-rhyme,  75,  276, 
277. 

Interpretation,  6. 

Interrogation,  34. 

"Introduction  to  Poetry," 

3- 
Inscription  on  a  Well,  116. 
In  Vain  Today,  195. 
Irony,  2^. 
Irregularities,  54,  124-129, 

141. 
Irwin,  Wallace,  255. 
It's  Very  Queer,  243. 
Ivry,  154. 


Jahberwocky,  256,  257,  258. 
Jerusalem  Delivered,  132. 
Jerusalem  the  Golden,  75. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  8,  279. 
Jones,  Charles  C,  268. 
JoNSON,  Ben,  147, 148, 149. 
Jordan,  Thomas,  271. 
Juvenal,  228. 

K 

Kalevala,  The,  131. 

Kathleen  Mavourneen,  217. 

Keats,  John,  67,  78,  102, 
103,  113,  145,  151.  171, 
174,  222,  251,  284. 


King,  Ben,  247. 

King  James  I,  iii. 

King   of  Denmark's    Ride, 

The,  97. 
King's  Quhair,  The.  iii. 
King  Henry  VIII,  143. 
King  Henry  of  Navarre,  154. 
Kingsley,  Charles,  154. 
Kipling,  Rudyard,  5,  64, 

65,  87,  96,  102,  155,  208, 

253. 
Kitty,  81-82. 
Kubla  Khan,  102,  107. 
Kyrie  Eleison,  202. 
Kyrielle,  The,  188,  202. 


Lady  Clare,  155. 

Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship, 

51- 
Lamb,  Charles,  138,  160. 
Lampton,  W.  J.,  284. 
Landor,  W.  S.,  12,  180. 
Lang,  Andrew,  106,  166, 

170,  171,  189,  190,  191, 

192. 
Langland,  William,  85. 
Language  of  poetry,  8,  10, 

22,  39. 
Lanier,  Sidney,  x,  9,  28, 

83,  215. 
"L'  Art  Poetique,"  69. 
Last  Leaf,  The,  121. 
Latin  hymns,  73,  75,  152. 
La    Tourette,    Charles, 

269. 
Lear,  Edward,   255,  256, 

258,  259,  262. 
"Lectures  on  Poetry,"  4. 


INDEX 


305 


Legend  of  Good  Women,  The, 

188. 
Lenore,  98. 
Letter  verse,  273. 
"Liberal      Movement      in 

English  Literature,  The," 

3- 
Light  endings,  143. 
Light  verse,  221-287. 
Limerick,  262. 
Linus,  15. 
Lipograms,  274. 
"Lippincott's  Magazine," 

222,  241,  242,  262. 
Litotes,  34. 

Livius  Andronicus,  15. 
Locker-Lampson,  F.,  223. 
Locksley  Hall,  116. 
LoiZEAU,  Cecilia,  244. 
Longfellow,  H.  W.,  6,  42, 

43,  50,  51.  53»  56,  98,  ii7> 
155,  167,  168,  169,  181, 
214,  218,  219,  222,  224, 
225,  247,  254. 

Long  meter,  116. 

Love  as  It  is  Gram- 
mared,  266. 

Love  in  Idleness,  213. 

Lovelace,    Sir    Richard, 

158,  159- 
Love's  Labor^s  Lost,  86,  144. 
Lowell,  James   Russell, 

1,6,70,85,157,229,235, 

244. 
Lucasta,  To,  158. 
Lycidas,  92,  112,  113. 
Lyrics,  20,  69,  73,  138,  157- 

162,  214. 


"'LyxicaX  Ballads,"  7,  12. 
Lyrical  measures,  182. 

M 

Macaronic  verse,  267. 
Macaulay,  T.   B.,   8,   28, 

154. 
Mackail,  J.  W.,  4. 
McCo^fNELL,  T.  C,  263. 
Magnificat,  The,  155. 
Mahabharata,  The,  131. 
Mahoney,  Francis,  84. 
"Making  of  Poetry,  The," 

22. 
Mandalay,  64,  65,  96. 
Man  of  Letters,  A,  273. 
Man's     Requirements,     A , 

234- 
Marco  Bozzaris,  34. 
Marlowe,     Christopher, 

48,  56. 
Marriage  of  Sir  John  Smith, 

The,  248. 
Marseillaise,  le,  60. 
Mason,  Walt,  278. 
Masculine  rhyme,  72. 
Matthews,  Brander,  69, 

117,  124,  133,  223. 
Mayo,  G.,  260. 
Meeting  at  Night,  120. 
Merchant  of  Venice,  30. 
Metaphors,  8,  28,  30. 
Meter,  10,  40,  109-123. 
Metonymy,  31. 
Middle  rhyme,  277. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  6. 
Miller's  Daughter,  The,  32. 
Milliken,  R.  a.,  84. 


3o6 


INDEX 


Milton,  John,  33,  49,  50, 
61,  92, 104, 112, 113, 126, 
132,  133-137,  145.  171, 
174,  183,  222. 

Misanthrope,  The,  259. 

Mnemonics,   266. 

MoBERLY,  E.  F.,  240,  252- 

255- 

Monologue  d'ouire  Tombe, 
211. 

Monometer,  289. 

Monorhymes,  278. 

Montenegro,  168. 

MooRE,  Thomas,  5,  50, 
215,  284. 

MoREWOOD,  G.  B.,  276. 

Morris,  William,  24,  iii. 

Mosaic  verse,  266. 

Movement,  37  (see  Ono- 
matopoeia,   90-99),    157. 

MoxoN,  Frederic,  268. 

MuSiEus,  15. 

Music,  37. 

"Music  and  Poetry,"  9. 

Musical  rhythm,  59,  159. 

My  Chaperon,  225. 

My  Heart's  in  the  High- 
lands,  160. 

My  love  for  thee  doth  march, 
etc.,  174. 

My  widespread  Indebted- 
ness, 274. 

N 
Nameless  Grave,  A,  167. 
Names     oj    Eight     British 

Poets,  283. 
"Nature  and  Elements  of 

Poetry,  The,"  3,  29,  157. 


"  Nashville      Tennessean, ' ' 

260. 
Nature  Faker,  A ,  240. 
Nell  Gwynn,  169. 
Neumarker,  J.  G.,  251. 
Niebelungen  Lied,  131. 
No  More,  236. 
Nonsense  verse,  255-265. 
Norton,  Caroline,  E.  S.  97. 
"Nonsense  Books,"  256. 
"Nonsense  Anthology,  A," 

256. 
Now  sleeps  the  crimson  petal, 

160. 
Numerical  oddities,  275. 

O 

Octameter,  289. 

Oddities  of  conception,  265- 

268. 
Oddities  of  form,  268-285. 
Ode,  no,  147-151,  290. 
Ode  on   a    Bust  of   Dante, 

106. 
Ode  on  a  Grecian  Urn,  151. 
Ode  on  the  Death  of  Sir.  H. 

M  orison,  148. 
Ode  on  the  Death  of  the  Duke 

of  Wellington,  150. 
Ode  on  the  Intimations  of 

Immortality,  150. 
Ode  on  a  Jar  of  Pickles,  251. 
Ode  to  a  Nightingale,  102, 

151- 
Ode  to  Duty,  151. 
Ode  to  the  West  Wind,  151. 
Odes  of  the  Greek  drama, 

149. 
Odyssey,  The,  132,  170, 


INDEX 


307 


Old,   Familiar  Faces,    The, 

138,  160. 
Old  Grimes,  228. 
Old     Rhythm     and  Rhyme, 

221. 
Omar    Khayyam,    79,    118, 

253- 

0,  My  Luve^s  Like  a  Red, 
Red  Rose,  216. 

One  or  Toother,  240. 

One  Word  More,  62,  138. 

On  First  Looking  into  Chap- 
man's Homer,  174. 

Only  Way,  The,  241. 

Onomatopoeia,   90-99 

"On  Some  Technical  Ele- 
ments of  Style  in  Litera- 
ture," 37. 

On  Westminster  Bridge,  1 74. 

Opera,  214. 

Orlando  Furioso,  132. 

Orpheus,  15. 

0,  Swallow,  Swallow,  160. 

Ottava  Rima,  112. 

Oxymoron,  35. 


Palindrome  lines,  280. 
Panegyric    on    the    Ladies, 

280. 
Pantoum,  The,  210-213. 
Paradise  Lost,  33,   61,   92, 

132-137- 
Parody,   245-255. 
Parsons,  T.  W.,  106. 
Passing  of  Arthur,  The,  93. 
Passionate    Shepherd,    The, 

48,  56. 
Patmore,  Coventry,  147. 


Patter  song,  77. 
Paul  Revere' s  Ride,  98. 
Pause  (see  Caesura). 
Pavilion,  The,  202. 
Payne,  John,  56,  199,  203, 

204. 
Peacock,  Thos.  L.,  76. 
Pelleas  and  Etarre,  31. 
Pentameter,  115,  181,  289. 
Perry,  Katharine,  244. 
Personification,  33. 
Petrarch,  163,  174. 
Phillips,  Stephen,  145. 
Pindar,  147. 
Pindaric  Ode,  147,  148. 
Plato,  ii. 
PoE,  E.  A.,  II,  22,  56,  76, 

94^95.  158,  i79>  249>  272. 
Poet,  The,  118. 
"Poetic  Principle,  The,"  11. 
"Poetics,"  8 
Poetry:        compared    with 

verse,  13;     defined,  1-4; 

elements  of,  4;    language 

of,  8, 10,  22;  origin  of ,  15. 
"Poetry  and  Imagination," 

7- 
Pope,  Alexander,  30,  90, 

114,  1x6,  125,  229,  230, 

284. 
Poulter's  measure,  112. 
Powell,  266. 
Princess,  The,  75,  93,  13S, 

160. 
Probyn,  May,  198. 
Profit,  12. 

Progress  of  Poesy,  149. 
Prometheus    Unbound,    145. 
Prose  verse,  277. 


3o8 


INDEX 


Prosody,    ii. 

Proud  King,  The,  112. 

Psalm  of  Life,  ^,  42,  43,  44, 

45>  50,  53.  117- 
"Punch,"  260. 
Punning  verse,   238-243. 
Purgatorio,  208. 
Purist,  The,  277. 
Pyro-technique,  240. 
Pyrrhic,  289. 

Q 

Quantity,  41,  53,  54. 
Quatrain,   117. 
Queen  Elizabeth,  112. 
Qu^en  Mob,  34. 

R 

Raven,  The,  56,  76. 
Real  Summer  Girl,  A,  251. 
Recessional,  5. 
Refrain,    154,    189-194. 
Rejected  Addresses,  77. 
Religion,  17,  18. 
Rhyme,  37,  69-82,  100. 
Rhyme  Royal,  iii. 
Rhythm,  10,  11,  37,  59-6<^, 
(see    Onomatopoeia,    91- 

99)- 
Riding  rhyme,  no. 
Ring  and  the  Book,  The,  145. 
Robinson,    A.    Mary    F., 

202. 
Roman  de  la  Rose,  le,  227. 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  35,  107. 
Rondeau,    The,    188,    194- 

196. 
Rondeau  of  Villon,  195. 
Rondeau  of  Voiture,  194. 


Rondeau     redouble,     The, 

198,  199. 
Rondel,  The,   188,   197. 
Rondelet,  The,  198. 
RosETTi,  Dante  G.,   119, 

127,  154,  165,  167,  172. 
RoTHROCK,  Harry  A.,  264. 
Roundel,  The,  188,  196. 
Rules  of  the  Italian  Sonnet, 

175.  176. 
Run-on  lines,  144. 
RusKiN,  John,  ii. 


Sagas,  The,  131. 

Saga  of  King  Olaf,  56. 

"St.  Louis  Times,"  261. 

Samson  Agonistes,  50. 

Sands  of  Dee,  The,  1 54. 

Sapphics,    183. 

Sappho,  183. 

Satire,  33,  228. 

"Satire      Anthology,      A," 

251- 
Satires,  230,  231. 
Satirical  verse,   227-237. 
S.AXE,  J.  G.,  235,  282. 
Scanning,  52,  289. 

SCHLEGEL,  A.  W.  von,   I40. 

Scholar,  The,  120. 
Schiller,   J.    C.    F.,    115, 

180,  181. 
"Science  of  English  Verse, 

The,"  83. 
Scorn  Not  the  Sonnet,  173. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  98. 

SCOVILLE,       S.^MUEL,       Jr., 

201. 
"Septenary,   The,"    152. 


INDEX 


309 


Serenade,  218. 

Serenade  at  the  Villa,  -4,119. 

Sestina,  The,  208. 

Sestina  of  the  Tramp  Royal, 

208. 
Shakespeare,  William,  7, 

25,  30,  33,  34,  35,  57,  85, 
86,    105,    107,    124,    127, 
141-145,    164,   169,    171, 
222. 
Shelley,  P.  B.,  5,  lo,  34, 

119,  145,  151,  171,  214. 
Sheridan,  R.  B.,  226. 
She  Walks  in  Beauty,  120. 
Sharp,  William,  163. 
Short  Meter,  115. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  10,  12, 

IS,  163,  169. 
Simile,  30. 

Single  rhyme,  72,  76. 
Sir  Patrick  Spens,  127. 
Sister  Helen,  154. 
Skylark,  The,  5,  119. 
Sleeping  Palace,  The,  125. 
Slurring,  126. 
Smith,  Horace  and  James, 

77- 

Solitude  of  Alexattder  Sel- 
kirk, 51,  57. 

Song,  189. 

Song  for  St.  Cecilia  s  Day, 
150. 

Song  of  Deborah,  155. 

Song  of  Moses  and  the  Chil- 
dren of  Israel,  155. 

Song  of  the  Brook,  93. 

Song- writing,    214-220. 

Sonnet,  The,  57,  163-177. 


Sonnet,  The,  172,  173. 
Sonnet  from  Astrophel  and 

Stella,   165. 
Sonnet   on   His    Blindness, 

174. 
Sonnets  Dedicated  to  Liberty, 

171. 
Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese, 

57- 
"Sonnets  of  This  Century," 

163. 

Sonnet's  Voice,  The,  172. 

Sophocles,  38. 

Sorcerer,  The,  77. 

Sorrows  of  Werther,  The, 
232. 

Sound,  ID,  37  (see  also 
Rhyme,  69-82 ;  Ono- 
matopoeia, 90-99;  and 
Tone-color,  100-108). 

Southey,  R.,  32,  93. 

Spanish  Gypsy,  The,  34, 
56,  84. 

Spanish  Student,  The,  218. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  19,  113, 
114,  171. 

Spenserian  stanza,  113,  114. 

Spondee,  37,  179,  180,  186, 
289. 

Spring  Sadness,  56,  203. 

Stanza,  The,  109-123,  2S&. 

Stedman,  E.  C,  3,  9,  29, 

157- 
Stevenson,  R.  L.,  37,  108. 

Stinson,  Sam  S.,  240. 
Stress  (see  Accent). 
Strong  syllables,  41. 
Strophe,  147,  148,  290. 
"Study  of  Poetry,  The,"  7. 


3IO 


INDEX 


"  Study  of  Versification,  A," 

69,  117,  124,  133. 
Suggestive  words,  24. 
Suicide,  The,  242. 
Sullivan,     Sir     Arthur, 

256. 
Sunset-Wings,  119. 
SusMAN,  Harold,  235. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  134. 
Sweet  and  Low,  75,  97. 
Swinburne,  A.  C,  87,  103, 

128,  170,  184,  185,  196, 

208. 
Syllables,  40,  47-58 
Synecdoche,  31. 


Tabb,  Father  John,  117. 

Tail-rhyme  stanza,    121. 

Talking  Oak,  The,  107. 

Tannhauser,  60. 

Tasso,  132. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  67,  222, 

251. 
Taylor,  Jane,  247. 
Tears,  Idle  Tears,  160. 
Technique,  38,  39. 
Telegram,  282. 
Tempest,  The,  86,  141,  142, 

144. 
Tennyson,  Alfred,  6,  22, 

31,  32,  33,  5i>  53,  54,  55, 
62,  63,  64,  71,  75,  91,  97, 
107,  108,  116,  117,  118, 
138,  14s,  155,  160,  168, 
182,  183. 

Tercets,  200. 

Terza  rima,  113. 

Tetrameter,  289. 


Thackeray,  W.   M.,   224, 
226,  227,  232. 

Theodore    de    Banville, 
192. 

Thesis,  47. 

Thought,  5. 

"Through       a       Looking- 
glass,"  256. 

Time,  61. 

Tintern  Abbey,  145. 

To  a  Mountain  Daisy,  121. 

To  a  Waterfowl,  119. 

To  Be  or  Not  to  Be,  235. 

To  Mrs.  Thrale,  278. 

Tone-color,  100-108. 

Tongue  twisters,  280. 

"Topeka  Capital,"  241. 

Town  of  Passage,  The,  84. 

Travesty,  245-255. 

Trimeter,  289. 

Triolet,  The,  no,  188,  201 

Triple  rhyme,  72. 

Trochee,  37,  40,  41,  50,  52, 
186,  288,  289. 

Troy  las  and  Crysede,  in. 

Twists  of  language,  265. 

Two  Voices,  The,  116. 

Typical  Topical  Song,  The, 
236. 

Typographical     oddities, 
270. 


Valentine,  A,  272. 
Variant  words,  25. 
Verse,  288. 
Vers  de  societe,   214,   223, 

.237- 
Villanelle,  The,  200. 


INDEX 


3" 


Villon,     Francois,     190, 

191,  195. 
Virelai,  The,  203. 
Virelai,  nouveau,  The,  203, 

204. 
Virgil,  97,  132,  134,  254. 
Vision,  32. 
Vision  Concerning  Piers  the 

Plowman,  The,  85. 
Vision  of  Jtidgment,  A,  32. 
Vision  of  Sir  Launfal,  The, 

6. 
Voice  of  the  East  to  the  Voice 

of  the  West,  243. 
Voice  of  the  West  to  the  Voice 

of  the  East,  243. 
VoiTURE,  Vincent,  194. 
Voltaire,  A.,  229. 
Von  Kraft,  Karl,  262. 
Vowel-rhyme,  83. 

W 

Wagner,  Richard,  85. 

Warning,   244. 

War-Song  of  Dinas   Vawr, 

77- 

"Washington  Herald,"  261. 

Watts-Dunton,  Theo- 
dore, 6,  172. 

Ways  of  Death.  The,  197. 

Weak  endings,  144. 

Weak  syllables,  41. 

Wells,  Carolyn,  223,  231, 
246,  253,  256,  257,  263, 
284,  285. 

Whateley,   Archbishop, 
II. 


"What  is   Poetry?"   3,   8, 

109. 
What  is  to  Come,  195. 
Wheeler,  E.  J.,  81,  82. 
Where  the  Fun  Comes  In, 

244. 
Whimsical  shapes,  268. 
Whimsical  verse,   265-285. 
White,  Gleeson,  188. 
Whitman,  Walt,  60. 
Whittier,  J.  G.,  48,  251. 
Wilcox,   Ella  Wheeler, 

221-222. 
Wilson,     McLandburgh, 

243- 
Winter's  Tale,  A,  105,  124, 

144. 
Wit,  227. 

Winthrup,  Anne  W.,  226. 
Wolfe,  Charles,  248. 
Woman's  Will,  235. 
Women's  Chorus,  237. 
Words,   22,   100-108. 
Wordsworth,      William, 

7.  12,  33,  54,  126,  145, 

150,  151,  171,  173,  180, 

266. 
World  is  too  mu^h  unth  us. 

The,  174. 
Wreck,  The,  22. 
Wreck  of  the  Hesperus,  155. 
Wrenched    accent,     127. 
"Writing  the  Short-Story," 

130. 
Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  163. 


Yawp,    284. 


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.."C  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  F 


A     000  573  957     8 


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